


Supernatural

by xRabbitx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Animal Transformation, Dark Magic, Desert, Hayseed Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Hippie witch!Mako, Hippies, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Rat!Junkrat, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Witch/Familiar AU, black magic, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRabbitx/pseuds/xRabbitx
Summary: adj. (so͞o′pər-năch′ər-əl). Of or relating to existence outside the natural world.Mako, the mountain witch, really needs to improve his magic skills, but he can't do that without a familiar. He's expecting his familiar to be something fierce, something ferocious and fearsome. Maybe a boar, a giant black dog, or maybe even an eagle? Well, guess what, Mako, it ain't gonna be any of those animals.





	1. The Witch Man of Quail Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Yes, I started a new AU.
> 
> I hope you like it :)
> 
> PS. I haven't based Mako's magic on any specific brand of magic, because I'm a lazy asshole, so there will probably be a lot of different flavors in it from all kinds of magic traditions.

*

 

It's almost impossible to tell there's a house up there—well, house may be stretching a bit. It's not so much a house as it is a trailer, and it's not so much a trailer as it is a husk of something that was once a trailer but has been repaired and restored so many times that it's more or less impossible to tell how the original thing once looked many, many years ago. It doesn't matter that much anyway, because 1) only the locals knows the trailer is up here, and 2) anyone who does venture up here will very quickly forget everything about the run down trailer and instead concentrate their attention on the hulk of a man that lives inside it. Chances are, though, that they won't get a good look at him either, because he has a habit of greeting trespassing strangers with a loaded shotgun pointed in their direction. The man will usually give these trespassing strangers one warning, and if they don't leave immediately, he will usually send the packing with several lead pellets lodged firmly and painfully in their bodies. But that has only happened exactly enough times that people keep away from the man and his trailer.

          The nearest town is Joshua Tree, and there people know the man very well—or rather, they know of him, because he hardly ever goes into town, and when he does, people keep their distance. The man's name is Mako, that much they know. He is tall, very tall, and very wide, too. His skin is darker than most people out here in the desert, and his arms are covered in strange tattooed markings. His hair is silvery grey and usually tied back in a bun or ponytail. But what usually catches people's eye (aside from the man's impressive size) is the color of his eyes; they are not brown as expected, but green. People in Joshua Tree are scared of looking Mako straight in the eye, because they are worried he might curse them. Because everyone in the town also knows that Mako is a witch. Not like an old-fashioned one with a big cauldron and a hooked nose with warts, though. No, it's different from that. Willy, the only person in town who has gotten a closer look at Mako's trailer, loves to tell anyone who will listen about the strange crystals there are scattered all around the trailer, about the mysterious wind chimes of colored glass, the animal skulls, the moonstones, the huge fire pit, the pile of bones next to it, the rusty old truck and the large black motorcycle parked behind the trailer. On full moon nights Mako will turn the bike into a huge black stallion that breathes fire and ride on the desert winds to the nearest towns to collect all the runaway children and take them back to his trailer to cook and eat them or use them for his devil summoning rituals. Every time a child goes missing from the county or even the next county over, people are convinced that it's the Witch Man of Quail Mountain who's done it. The local police have even searched Mako's trailer and his land several times, but they have never found anything. All the bones are animal bones, and there is nothing to suggest that the giant man has done anything criminal. He's just a kook who likes crystals. He's probably one of these hippie folk from Los Angeles or San Francisco who has finally gone properly mad and settled down in the middle of nowhere (none of them knows how long Mako has actually lived up there in the mountains). That's what the police always tell the local newspapers when they ask about the witch in the mountains. As the years pass, most people finally start believing the police when they say that Mako is just an old oddball who likes to be left alone. They still stare and keep their distance when Mako ventures into town to stock up on food and other necessities (just because Mako isn't a witch, it doesn't mean that he isn't one of these Satan worshiping, Charlie Manson types), but it's only a few people left who still believe that Mako is an actual witch.

          The funny thing is that they are 100% correct; Mako is in fact an actual witch, but he has worked very hard to keep it a secret. First of all, he's not really like a full-time witch. He's just practicing his magic because it's fun and exciting to make things happen out of thin air. Secondly, if everyone knew for sure that he is a witch, they would either lynch him or coming running to him every other minute, asking for favors, blessings, or curses upon their enemies. And Mako just doesn't have time for that. His main concern is trying to turn the dry patch of land surrounding his trailer into rich, fertile soil, so he can grow his food there and not have to go into town. But judging from what he's capable of doing with nature magic now, it shouldn't take that much practice until he can master the difficult ritual he'll need to perform in order to make his land fertile.

          "God damn it," Mako mutters when he wakes up and peers out the half-broken window of his trailer; the plot outside his trailer is as dry and sandy as ever. It seems like the rite he performed last night didn't work either. Just like the one last week. Mako rolls out the bed and pulls on his overalls from the floor. They could really do with a good washing, but Mako has been too absorbed in getting this ritual to succeed to notice, and as long as they don't smell too bad…

          The air is hot and dry when he pushes the door to the trailer open. It must be almost noon judging by the sun's position in the sky, and it's getting really hot. Mako knows better than to move around outside on a cloudless summer's day in the desert, but he needs to make sure that the spell really didn't work. He can feel the sunbeams prickling on his shoulders as he walks the short distance between the door to his trailer and to the vegetable plot he's trying to establish by the trailer's east side. It was raining last night when he did the ritual (just as his book had told him it should be), but the dirt is all dried up and dusty when he looks at it now. There's nothing, except a small cactus, growing there, and Mako huffs and kicks the dirt a bit, then hurries inside. It's no use getting frustrated out here when the heat is like this. The thermometer he's attached to the trailer is showing 116 degrees, and it's only going to get worse. Mako needs to go back inside and park himself in front of his electric fan and his tiny fridge, possibly drink a lot of cold tea and beer. The problem with that plans, though, is the fact that Mako doesn't have any beers (they all mysteriously disappeared during last night's ritual), and that problem can only be solved in one of two ways; either Mako can take the cold beers out of the equation or he can get in his truck, drive his fat ass down to Joshua Tree and pick up some beer from the local supermarket. The latter is definitely uncomfortable and trouble that Mako isn't interested in, but the former is totally out of the question, so Mako has no other choice but to choose the latter option no matter how little he feels like dealing with the townspeople gawking at him and whispering about him. On the other hand, they do that anyway.

          Mako grunts and instead of heading back inside the trailer, he makes a beeline for his truck. The torn, black leather seat feels slightly too warm against his bare back, and it only takes about three seconds before Mako's skin is so sweaty that he's sticking to the seat. Mako wrenches the key in the ignition, and the engine splutters, coughs, and sounds like it's about to choke before it finally rumbles into life (he should probably get some oil for it at the gas station, too).

          The drive down the mountain and into Joshua Tree isn't that long, but the temperature keeps climbing, and by the time Mako parks his car in front of the large supermarket, he's got his AC blasting out a max capacity. The nice cool air is not the only reasons Mako stays in the truck for a little while after arriving in the parking lot; he's chosen a really bad time to go shopping, because noon is when all the housewives in the area are going shopping, too, and they love to stare and gossip about it. Maybe he should have worn a shirt? Or at least some briefs under his overalls? Mako huffs and kills the engine before getting out. The heat hits him like a wall, and for a moment, it almost feels like he can't breathe. It's always like this, every summer, and you'd like that living in the desert for almost 20 years would have gotten him used to heat like this, but Mako seriously doubt that anything could ever prepare you for heat of this kind. It's so hot that it doesn't even matter that the heat is dry and not humid. Mako can practically feel his skin bubbling and sizzling on his shoulders as he crosses the parking lot to seek refuge inside the supermarket. The air in here is nice and cool, and the gentle hum of muzak is wafting through it, almost hypnotizing anyone who's stupid enough to stay here longer than five minutes. Mako isn't that stupid; he knows exactly what he needs, and he heads straight to the drinks aisle with his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. He can tell that there are plenty of other shoppers here, and he can hear them quiet down when they spot him.

          "I'm telling you, Darlene, this hand mixer is the best… is that the witch man?"

          "And if you just add two eggs, then… Mary, look, it's that freak from the mountains!"

          "Don't look him in the eye, Kenny. He's a weirdo."

          "I've heard he once put a curse on a guy over in Yucca Valley for looking him in the eye. The guy turned blind two days later."

          The Joshua Tree Supermarket is the biggest shop that has been built out here in decades, maybe even ever. It is a miserable, little corner store compared to the supermarkets of the bigger cities in the state, of course, but it is the pride and joy of the local townspeople, because 1) now they don't have to drive all the way to Palm Springs if they want to shop in a supermarket, and 2) it's the cause of much envy from the people of Yucca Valley who don't have a big supermarket of their own, and there's nothing the people of Joshua Tree love more than annoying their neighbors in Yucca Valley. The supermarket is built after the latest trends and standards, and it's almost like stepping into a different world; it's a world of pleasant and smiling staff, squeaky clean floors, and endless rows of brightly colored food items and plastic shit. Everything smells like synthetic citrus, and all the fruit and vegetables are covered in a fine layer of wax to make them shinier and last longer. It's the kind of shit that will give you cancer and/or three-headed kids down the line if you eat too much of it. Mako hates every second he spends in here, but they sell cheap beer and food, so he's forced to come here until he can make his land fertile enough to grow his own food and grain. Like Moses by the Red Sea, Mako parts the waves of shopping housewives as he stalks down the drinks aisle to grab two boxes of beer. They go quiet for a moment, and the only sound that can be heard over the buzzing muzak is the jingle of Mako's belt buckle and the soft flapping noises at his flip-flops hit his heels. Then the women dissolve into excited and not-so-hushed whispers, and Mako swallows down the urge to spin around and shout some abracadabra bullshit at them to make them shit their pants. But making a scene like that while having non-white skin is usually a very, very bad idea, and despite what people are saying about him, Mako can't shoot fire bolts from his hands or turn people into slime with a snap of his fingers. The kind of magic he practices takes time. It's the kind that works slowly and effectively. Like the time a business magnate wanted to force Mako off his land to build a casino there. The guy was known for "buying" land of natives very cheaply and then building casinos that made him millions of dollars. When it became clear that the guy was prepared to use force, Mako had cooked up a nice, little curse on him that slowly, but surely had made his toes rot fall off, one by one, and then his fingers, and then his ears. Mako could have kept going until there was nothing left of the guy, but killing was such an easy way out. Mako prefers people to learn lessons and hopefully better themselves. No one heard from the business guy since then, so it might have helped. Anyway…

          The young girl behind the register gazes up at him and especially the golden rings in his nipples when Mako drops the two boxes of beer on the counter, and he has to clear his throat to make her snap back to reality. She turns pink and quickly scans the beer before mumbling the cost without looking up at him. The store manager is looming a few feet away, keeping a very close eye on Mako. They have never spoken, but the manager always comes out from his office to keep an eye on Mako whenever Mako shops there. As if the tiny, fat guy could do anything if Mako started trouble. Mako is at least twice his size and twice his weight, and he could probably lift the manager with one hand if he wanted to. But Mako doesn't want trouble, and he just huffs and pays the girl with a $20 bill.

          "Keep the change," he grunts before picking up the two boxes and leaving the dumbstruck girl gazing after him. They're all wondering where Mako gets his money from when he looks like a hobo who doesn’t have a job, and Mako is never going to tell them. He drags the beer out of the store, hissing softly when he leaves the nice, cool supermarket and step out into the sizzling sun. Has it gotten even hotter while he's been inside? The truck is insufferably hot, and Mako almost feels physically ill getting inside it, but there's nothing for it, and he cranks the AC up as far as it will go. He needs to get back to his trailer and sit down in front of the fan.

          It's not until he parks the truck next to his trailer 15 minutes later that he remembers that he was supposed to get oil for the truck, too. Shit. Mako rubs over his face; there's no way he's going out again today while the sun is up. The truck will probably be fine until then. But Mako isn't fine. Or rather, he's fine until later that night when he's about a box and a half into his two boxes of beer. The sun has gone down at this point, but for some reason, it hasn’t really eased the heat. In fact, it has become even worse. The air is thick and humid, very unlike the usually dry desert air, and even though Mako is sitting right in front of his open fridge with his feet literally resting on the fridge shelf inside, it’s not helping him much. His fan is going at full capacity, but all it does is circulating the insufferable air and blowing it right back at Mako, making him feel desperate and antsy. He’s drunk and sweating like a madman, and he has to do something. Well, he can’t really do anything about the weather (only the most powerful witches and mages can control the weather, and Mako is still learning), but he has to something to keep his mind off the heat and the insanity that’s bubbling under his skin. His mind fires in all directions for a while, trying to think of something to do, until it finally circles the subject of his ongoing project of making his land fertile. All his rituals and experiments have been in vain, but maybe he’s approaching this from the wrong angle?

          Mako gets up and walks over to the rickety bookcase next to his bed. He drags the fan and a beer with him and sits down. The old, rusty springs squeak under his weight, but they hold up, because Mako has told them to.

          “Hmm,” Mako grunts to himself. He scratches through his messy hair and pushes it out of his eyes as he opens the thick book on his knees and flips through it to find the right page. He finds it and reads. Of course. Mako plants a finger on the page as if showing it to someone looking over his shoulder. All this time, Mako has been thinking that he has been doing the wrong ritual, but maybe it’s not the ritual that’s wrong? Maybe he’s the one who’s wrong? Well, not _wrong_ , but just not powerful enough. Mako has only been practicing witchcraft for 30 years, and it usually takes at least 50 years to be a good witch. The witch who taught Mako in the beginning had been practicing for almost 100 years, and she wasn’t even as powerful as some of the witches Mako knows about down in the south. There’s rumors about a Swiss witch who has been traveling the world for a thousand years, and she’s so powerful that she can raise the dead.

          Mako isn’t really prepared to wait another 20 years to be able to use his land for food, though, and the article he has found in his book has just offered him an easy way out of his problem; a familiar. Most witches have one, and it’s a good way to make the witch’s magic more powerful. The brand of magic Mako has learned is all about bonding, bonding with nature, bonding with creatures, bonding with people, and in retrospect it was probably not the right kind of magic for Mako since he really, really likes his solitude, but it’s too late to change it now, and a familiar is not exactly people, is it? It’s usually an animal, and Mako likes animals. Come to think of it, it would actually be really cool to have a big black hellhound or a sleek cat, or maybe a humongous toad or jet-black goat. Mako can’t help but imagine the look on the townspeople’s faces when he comes to town with his familiar, walking to the supermarket with a fearsome, iron-bristled boar. He chuckles. Yes, a familiar is definitely the way to go.

          A witch like Mako doesn’t just go out and find a familiar. Familiars cannot be found, they can only be summoned. The witch performs the summoning ritual, and if it is done correctly, the witch’s true familiar will answer the call. The witch doesn’t have any say in the kind of familiar they get, but Mako can’t imagine that his familiar won’t be as big and formidable as himself. Once the familiar is summoned, they cannot be abandoned. The witch and the familiar are bonded until one of them dies. If the familiar dies first, the witch will sometimes be able to summon a new one, but if the witch dies first, the familiar is doomed to live out the rest of its life alone. They often turn cruel and violent as a result of their grief and loneliness and will terrorize or kill anyone who dares get close to them. Most monsters Mako has heard of have been lonely familiars who have been warped by their loss. It’s a sad end for them, and as he rises from the bed, book still in hand, Mako promises himself that he will do anything in his power to make sure that he won’t die before his familiar.

          The ritual needed to summon a familiar is very simple. All you really need is the incantation and an unobstructed view of the sky. A familiar summoning spell is a nature ritual, and the closer the witch is to nature, the more effective and powerful, the spell will be. The witch can burn incense and/or sage to increase the effect of the spell. Then in a clear voice, the witch should speak the incantation while staring at the skies. If the spell is successful, a familiar will present itself at the witch’s door shortly after.

          An hour later, Mako has set everything up on the deck under the pent roof behind his trailer. The deck is usually cluttered up by all his plants, spices and herbs, small citrus plants, tomatoes, and his ratty, old armchair. He likes to sit out here and drink lemonade, surveying his land and contemplating all the amazing things he will do once his magic abilities have matured enough. It’s a good spot for watching for intruders, too. He can see the road that winds its way up the mountain from here, and people only use it to try and get to him. It’s been years since anyone but Mako has used this road.

          Mako has cleared the deck and drawn a big chalk circle on it. Around the circle, he has placed candles, rocks, crystals and other items that might help him. The air is hot and still and perfect. Mako sits down in the circle he’s drawn, opening the book on the right page. Whenever he’s about to do magic, he can feel it tingle in his body like a small electric current vibrating under his skin. Does every witch feel like this? Mako has never met another witch, except his mentor who died many years ago. He draws a sigh. The dark skies moved over his head. There are no stars tonight. The words glide from Mako’s mouth in a soft whisper at first as his fingers glide over them on the paper page. They almost feel like liquid, dripping out between his lips, and he can feel the electric current under his skin expand. All the hairs on his body begin to bristle as the words grow louder into a hum. Above his head, the skies are turning darker, gathering across the firmament as if they can hear him. There’s still no wind, but Mako swears he can hear a whooshing roll over the mountain, coming down towards him, and he feels powerful. The magic is in him, and he feels like he’s glowing. The words are louder now; he’s speaking them out with authority, commanding his familiar to show itself, to come to him, to reveal itself and become his forever. Mako doesn’t realize that he’s standing, and he can feel the magic swell inside him, making him expand, making him indestructible. He can touch everything like this. No one or nothing can hurt him like this. Mako and his familiar will be an unstoppable force.

          It feels like the last syllable of the incantation makes the mountain vibrate, and once he has spoken it, Mako holds his breath and looks around, fully expecting to see his large, fearsome familiar come charging out of the night. He waits. And then waits some more. Nothing happens. The candles around Mako burn down and the bottle in his hand is emptied, but still no familiar. Maybe he did something wrong? Mako studies the instructions in his book, but no, he’s followed them to the letter, and it felt right, too. When a spell doesn’t work, it’s apparently almost instantaneously, because the magic feels off. But everything about this felt right, so it must have been right. Mako sighs and gets back into his trailer, shutting the backdoor behind him. Maybe his familiar just got a bit lost on the way? Mako opens another beer and sits down on his bed. He’ll try the ritual again tomorrow.

          It’s raining when Mako jerks awake a few hours later. Heavy drops are drumming on the trailer’s aluminum shell, and for a moment, Mako doesn’t know what woke him up. A low rumble of thunder is lazily rolling over the mountain, and Mako is just about to fall asleep again when he hears it, the thing that woke him up; it’s a tapping. It’s not like the rain or the thunder. It sound different, more rhythmical, more deliberate, and it’s coming from his backdoor. Is someone knocking on his door?

          Mako drags himself out of bed, bringing his shotgun with him. Someone knocking on his door in the middle of the night is usually not a good thing (last time this happened, a large group of the townspeople had tried to get the police to arrest him), but when he calls, “Who is it?” through the door, no one answers. He calls again, but the only noise he can hear is the rain drumming on the roof of his trailer. Mako grunts and turns away from the door. He has time to take exactly one step towards the bed when the knocking is back, and Mako flings himself at the door, yanking it open. Nothing. Mako grips the shotgun tighter. Is someone pranking him? If the townspeople have grown courageous enough to prank him, there’s something seriously wrong.

          “Who’s there?” he barks into the darkness, but there’s no reply through the carpet of rain. He’s about to close the door when he notices something on the step in front of him. At first he thinks it’s a lump of garbage, old fabric that has been soaked by the rain, but when he leans down to take a closer look, it moves! Mako jumps back in surprise, and he almost drops the gun when two large, eyes open and look up at him in the darkness. Mako takes a step to the side, and the light from inside the trailer spills out of the door and falls on…

          “Oh no,” Mako sighs and rubs over his face as he stares down at his new familiar, an unnaturally big, patchy rat, blinking its just as unnaturally big eyes up at him.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! Please remember to leave me a comment and/or kudos if you liked what you've read :) It really means a lot to me to get your feedback.
> 
> Thanks! The next chapter will hopefully be out soon!
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


	2. The Many Faces of the Rat Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this rat is supposed to be Mako's familiar?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, but the last couple of weeks have been packed with stuff that has demanded my attention. But the chapter is here now! Hopefully it won't be another three weeks before the next one comes :)
> 
> Enjoy!

*

 

It has been three days since the rat (or whatever it is) came knocking on Mako’s door, and the only thing that has happened since is exactly nothing. The rat has been sleeping most of the time, and when it hasn’t been sleeping, it’s been eating. Mako has been watching it, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Isn’t this rat supposed to do something? How does Mako even know that this is his familiar and not just some freeloader? None of Mako’s books help him. They all mention _how_ to summon a familiar, but they don’t talk about how you recognize it or what to do once you summon it. All the books talk about a special and unbreakable bond between the witch and their familiar, but how is Mako supposed to know if he’s bonding with this rat or not? And how is he supposed to bond with it anyway? It’s not like they can crack open a cold one and watch the game down in the local saloon (not that Mako is welcomed there anyway). He doesn’t really feel like touching it either; the creature’s fur is matted and patchy with long, almost curly, dirty blond fur that’s broken by semi-bald spots. The creature’s tail is long, naked and thick, and it twitches nervously no matter if the rat is sleeping or awake. The rat’s ears are chipped and a little bit droopy. Its body is big; it’s a lot bigger than any normal rat Mako has ever seen, and although Mako has never actually touched the rat, he’s pretty sure it weighs at least 3 lbs. Finally, the rat’s right front and back paw are different from the rest of its body. The front paw is simply not there. There’s a small stump with a scar on it that suggests that the paw’s disappearance was violent. The back paw is there, but it’s pitch black, almost scorched. When the rat walks, it seems to favor the left paw as if the right one is hurting. Yeah, there are many peculiar things about this rat, but the most peculiar thing about the rat is its eyes. They’re big, just like the rest of the animal, they hardly ever blink, and their color both astonishes and terrifies Mako; they’re not really amber, because the color is too wild, too bright. They remind Mako is the raging brushfires he has witnessed as a kid, roaring and violent and totally destructive. There’s a madness in them, too, and Mako can only stand to look into them for a few seconds before he has to pretend to be interested in something else.

          But apart from its size and unusual eyes, the rat really doesn’t seem to have any special qualities, and Mako doesn’t really know what to do.

          “So, what’s your deal?” he asks the rat one afternoon. Mako is sitting in his armchair out on the patio, hiding from the sizzling sun in the shade. The heat has let up a little bit thanks to the lazy breeze that’s coming down from the mountain and making the wind chimes and dreamcatchers hanging from the porch roof sway gently back and forth above their heads. The rat, currently sitting in a tomato pot and nibbling on an overly ripe tomato, doesn’t seem to hear him, or if it does, it doesn’t care enough to look up. Its ears twitch a little.

          Mako scratches his chin. Then he grabs the rat by the scruff of its neck and lifts it up. The rat squeaks and struggles a bit, resulting in a small cloud of matted rat hair drizzling down from its squirming body.

          “I wonder if you’re even a real familiar,” Mako hums as he lifts the wriggling rat up to contemplate it. “Maybe you’re just a big, boge rat? A disgusting, trash-eating, f— _ow!_ ”

          He’s not really sure how it’s happened, but the rat has somehow managed to twist around enough to bite his finger, and it’s biting hard. It sinks its sharp teeth into Mako’s middle finger, piercing the skin with ease, and now it’s stuck there. Mako jumps up from his chair with a roar, waving and flicking his hand to try and get the rat off, but the little shit has jaws of steel, because it’s not letting go. Its big, orange eyes are burning into him as it stares at him, and it’s not until Mako grabs it around the middle with his free hand, squeezing so hard that it looks like its eyes might pop out that it lets go.

          “You little--!” Mako howls, but the rat slips out of his hand and lands on the patio on its belly with a smack. It doesn’t stay put. It scrambles to its feet, racing across the deck with Mako right on its tail. The rat, of course, is too fast for him to catch, and he ends up chasing it under an old Chevrolet Apache with no wheels that has long since stopped being a pickup truck in favor of being a huge pile of rust. The rat hides under the chassis and Mako can’t reach it. When he reaches under there, the rat simply hisses (is that normal?) and snaps at him, and Mako isn’t in the mood to get another finger mangled. The first one is still bleeding pretty heavily, and Mako eventually has to abandon the rat to go take care of his finger.

          “Nasty little shit,” Mako mutters to himself a moment later when he’s standing over the small sink in his trailer, washing the bite wound. It’s quite deep and it keeps bleeding. Mako has to use some of the homemade healing ointment he keeps on hand to close the wound and try and ward off infections. Who knows what that rat might be infested with? Mako should probably brew a couple of really thorough cleanse potions just in case he’d picked up something from the bite. What the hell was that rat doing biting him anyway? Maybe it was rabid? Could rats get rabies? Mako knows foxes can, but he’s never heard of rats with rabies. What if the rat went into town and bit some little kid? That shit is pretty contagious, isn’t it? Maybe Mako should just catch the rat, chop its head off and let that be the end of it. It’s clearly not his familiar anyway. It’s just an overgrown, but totally normal rat.

          Mako is honestly surprised a few minutes later when he’s kneeling next to the rusty pickup to find that the rat is still there, backing into a corner and looking out at him. He had expected it to have bolted when it got the chance, but either it’s too stupid to do so or it’s paralyzed by fear. It doesn’t look scared, though. It just blinks out at him with those raging eyes, waiting and bracing itself by the looks of it. When Mako reaches for it, it hisses and bares its pointy teeth.

          “Damn it,” Mako grunts and pulls his hand back. A moment later he’s back again with a broom handle. He slides it under the car, but the rat just darts away to the other end of the chassis, then disappears into a hole in the metal. Mako can see its big eyes watching him from the dark hole.

          “Fine, stay out here,” Mako grunts and gets up, brushing the dust off his knees. “I hope you get eaten by a damn rattle snake.”

          It’s almost dinner time, Mako is getting hungry, and it’s really not his problem if some sick rat makes it into town anyway. He goes back into his trailer and fully intends to forget about the whole thing. He will do another summoning spell later tonight or maybe tomorrow. The first one clearly failed. But Mako doesn’t manage to forget about the rat at all. Well, he does for a while as he heats up a pot of beans, but then it starts to rain.

          The rain comes from down the mountain, bringing with it wind and thunder. It’s not the worst thunder storm Mako has ever witnessed out here, but it’s bad enough. The rain is drumming on the roof of the trailer, drowning out the sound from Mako’s old radio on the counter. The only thing that cuts through the noise of the rain is the rumbling thunder that rolls over the valley like a thick, heavy blanket. Mako sighs and glances towards the window; he can’t see the car from here, but there are already small streams of rain water on the ground. The earth is too dry to absorb that much water, and if the rain had been heavier, Mako would have worried about flash floods. As it is, there are no flash floods big enough to do any damage to him or his trailer. But they might do damage to something smaller. Like a rat.

          Mako rubs over his face. It’s really not his responsibility, and the rat is probably not even there anymore. But if it were… Even if it’s a nasty piece of vermin, the rat doesn’t deserve to drown, and part of being a witch is to protect nature, even the less comfortable parts of it.

          “God damn it,” Mako mutters to himself, then checks on the rice boiling on the tiny burner on the counter before grabbing a waved shawl he once got from an old Native American medicine man and pushing the door open. The noise of the rain is almost deafening out here, and the ground has already turned into a muddy river. Mako seriously reconsiders this idea, but the idea of the rat suffering an awful death out here in the darkness propels him forward. He steps into the mud, almost slipping, and wades through it over to the corpse car. The muddy waters are already up to Mako’s ankles, and there’s no way the rat can still be hiding in the car and still be alive. Mako moves closer, looking through the window by the driver’s seat. Everything inside the chassis is wet and splashed with mud. It’s hard to see if there’s a rat hiding somewhere in an air vent or perhaps the glove compartment, and Mako very much regrets not having brought a flashlight.

          Something moves in the car’s backseat, and Mako jumps slightly in surprise and yanks his head around. At almost the exact same time, a flash of lightening cracks its way across the dark skies. Everything is bathed in a stark white light for a second. It’s not a long time, but it’s long enough for Mako to get a good look at the creature curled up in the backseat.

          It’s… it’s a kid. Well, Mako thinks it’s a kid. It’s curled up, pressing against the rusty door and staring out at him with wide eyes. Mako blinks, and by the time his eyes have opened again, the light is gone and all Mako can see are the two big eyes gazing out at him. Seriously? Has the rat just turned itself into a human? Or something human-like? Mako squints and the eyes squint back at him.

          A muttered incantation later, a ball of soft, white light appears in Mako’s palm, hovering gently an inch or two above his hand. Mako doesn’t like to use magic for everyday things, because he worries he’ll get lazy, but this is honestly not an everyday thing. The ball illuminates the inside of the car, and Mako can finally get a proper look at the creature on the backseat; it’s naked, curled up with its long arms wrapped around its skinny knees. Well, arm. Singular. The bottom half of the right arm is missing, and there’s an angry red scar zig-zagging up from the remaining stump, over the elbow, and almost all the way up to the creature’s shoulder.

          “What the hell?” Mako says, staring at the creature, this naked kid, in the dim light. Is this really the same creature as the rat? It seems impossible, but the eyes are exactly the same shade of dark gold. There’s a black speck in the left one, like an insect caught in amber. The creature is shivering. It’s not cold despite the rain, but the creature is skinnier than skinny and looks like it’s been drenched for a while now. No wonder it’s freezing.

          Mako reaches for the kid, but it flinches and pulls away. Mako sighs.

          “Not gonna hurt you,” he says. The ball of light flickers over his palm, and Mako reaches a bit further inside the car with his free hand. “C’mon. You’re gonna freeze to death out here.”

          The kid’s eyes glance from the light in Mako’s hand to Mako’s outstretched hand, then to his face. Slowly, with a twitch under its right eye, the creature reaches out. The moment it takes Mako’s hand, Mako feels a surge of _something_ , and the ball of light hovering over Mako’s palm splutters, then explodes in a light so bright it blinds Mako before it extinguishes itself with a soft ‘pop’ like a small balloon.

          “Huh.”

          Mako is speechless. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and it happened right when the creature connected with Mako. Maybe this really is his familiar? Is this what a familiar is supposed to feel like?

          “Are you my familiar?” Mako asks as he tugs the kid closer by the hand. “I mean, it’s just that you didn’t exactly act like it earl—hey!”

          The second the creature is close enough, it crawls out through the broken car window and right into Mako’s arms. It curls up there.

          “Uh. Okay.”

          Mako has no idea what to do now. It’s not like this creature is small either. Sure, it’s skinny, but it’s long, too, and it’s honestly a little heavy. Oh, and it’s naked. It might not be 100% human, but it certainly has the basic human anatomy, which makes this pretty awkward since it’s pressing up against Mako’s chest. Everything is wet and slippery, and the rain is burning in Mako’s eyes. The kid isn’t letting go.

          “God damn it,” Mako grunts and finally grabs a proper hold of the creature in his arms. It still says nothing, but even if it did, Mako probably wouldn’t be able to hear it over the noise of the torrents of rain. He pulls away from the car and trudges back through the shallow streams of water rushing over the earth to his trailer. He is soaked to the bone by the time he reaches the door.

          This rat boy or whatever it is doesn’t seem to know about shame or general decency, because when Mako dumps it on his bed, the creature doesn’t do anything to cover itself up. It just shifts to sit up, knees apart and feet together, and gazes curiously up at Mako. Mako is desperate to look elsewhere, and it’s then that he notices that one of the creature’s legs is not like the other; the right is darker than the left. The skin is charred black, and there’s a patch of matted dirty blond fur stretching up from the ankle to the back of the knee. The foot itself is strange, too, and slightly misshapen. The toes are longer, and the sole of the foot is bulgy, covered in what looks like pads. They are lighter than the charred skin. In fact, in the dim light in the trailer, they look pink.

          The creature wriggles its toes and blinks at Mako. Its ears are slightly juggy and pointed, and there’s a nick in the left of them. Mako half expects them to wriggle like the creature’s toes. They don’t.

          “Here.”

          Mako tosses the kid a blanket, but when nothing happens, Mako sighs and reaches out to drag it over the kid’s lap to cover him up a bit. Is it even a he? Judging from what Mako has just covered up, it is, but there is something androgynous about the rest of the face and body, so long and lean and kind of feminine in how smooth it looks. The long, pale lashes are certainly not the most masculine trait Mako has ever seen. Although it’s not like testosterone inhibits the eyelash growth, right? Males can have long eyelashes just as easily as females can have short, right?

          Mako’s musings on gender expression are interrupted by a strange sound. It’s a series of three noises in rapid succession, and it takes Mako a moment to realize that it’s that kid. He’s… sneezing! The pointy nose is dripping with water and clear snot, and the creature just looks so pathetic that Mako can’t stand it.

          “Just—sit still,” Mako snaps as he grabs another towel to very ungently dry the kid’s hair. This turns out to be a mistake, however, because when he is done, the kid looks even more pathetically adorable with its hair sticking out in every direction. Mako refuses to look at it as he lugs the crappy, old space heater over to the bed. He usually uses it on long, cold winter nights. It splutters and rasps when he turns it on, but it works, and soon after, the trailer is full of the warm, sickening smell of petroleum. Mako instantly regrets using it, but the kid seems to be happy. He curls up in the blanket and the damp towels and instantly falls asleep in the middle of the bed, leaving no room for Mako whatsoever. Mako now has two options: he can either kick the kid out of the bed and risk it doing… well, whatever a magical rat kid might do when scared and/or angry, or he can swallow his irritation and go sleep in his armchair. Or at least sit there for a while. Mako isn’t sleepy enough to actually go to bed yet anyway. Maybe a cold beer will help? It certainly beats spending another second into the increasingly sauna-like trailer. Yes, that’s definitely a thing that needs to happen right now.

          Mako grabs a couple of beers and edges past the bed to get through the door to the small patio behind the trailer. It’s still pouring down outside, but at least Mako is dry under the homemade roof even though it complains a lot under the weight of the water splashing down on it from the dark skies. The thunder has stopped, and the only sound that rolls over the mountain is the sound of the rain. It’s quite meditative, and Mako quickly loses track of time as he sits there, sipping his cold beer and staring out into the darkness while contemplating what he’s going to do about the familiar on his bed. He hadn’t exactly expected to be sharing his life and trailer with another person. Aren’t familiars supposed to be animals? Mako has never heard of a human familiar. Of course, the kid on his bed isn’t fully human, is he? He has that weird leg and those ratty ears. Did he have a tail, too? Mako doesn’t remember seeing one, but then again, he didn’t exactly spend a lot of time staring at the kid’s ass either.

          Mako huffs. _Kid._ The creature on his bed might look like a young man, but Mako seriously doubts that he’s really that young. Even if he is human, learning to turn yourself into an animal takes decades, if not lifetimes, of practicing and education. Mako wouldn’t be surprised if the kid is actually older than him. Magic does strange things to the people and creatures that use it, anyway. It prolongs life and health, and if you use it well, you might end up living several lifetimes. Maybe this is what the kid has done? But then, how would he end up being someone familiar? Mako is extremely tempted to go wake him up and ask him. He doesn’t seem to be able to speak, though. Maybe he knows sign language or something like that? Mako glances at the window in the trailer that’s just above the bed. He can’t see the bed or the kid through the dirty plastic-pretending-to-be-glass.

          A couple of hours later, Mako is standing next to the bed and looking down at the creature on the old mattress. It’s not a human-like creature anymore; the lump under the blanket has gotten a lot smaller and lot more rat-shaped. Is the kid even doing this on purpose? Does he have any control over this at all? The rat just snores inside the blanket, oblivious to all of Mako’s many questions. The good thing about this, however, is that Mako can actually sleep in his bed now. It’s a lot easier to move a rat than it is to move a six feet tall person. Mako is very careful and gentle as he slowly peels away the blanket to find the rat. It’s curled into a ball, emitting what sounds like a tiny snore. Does this thing ever do anything but eat and sleep? Mako huffs. He gingerly picks the rat up and moves it to a pillow in the corner of the bed. It doesn’t wake up, just twitches a bit.

          Mako is equally careful as he shimmies out of his clothes and crawls into bed and pulls the sheets over himself. It’s a bit weird to lie here, butt naked, with some kind of rat/human hybrid sleeping on the pillow next to his head, but Mako refuses to change anything about his life just because this little creature has somehow gnawed its way into it.

          “That’s right,” Mako grunts quietly before he closes his eyes. His hands are folded, resting on his big gut, and despite the weirdness of it all, Mako eventually drifts off. He’s so deeply asleep that he doesn’t even notice when the rat wakes up a few hours later and leaves its pillow to curl up on Mako’s broad chest instead.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! Think Mako's going to freak out when he wakes up the next morning? I guess we'll just have to wait and see x)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's supported me! It really means a lot <3
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/) if you wanna!


	3. The Naming of the Hundred Year Old Rat Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako has gotten himself a new roommate, and he's not thrilled about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to chapter 3 of Supernatural :)  
> This chapter is a wee bit short. I'm traveling out of state for a week tomorrow, so I was rushing a bit to get the chapter done before I leave.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

*

  

Considering the fact that Mako dabbles in all kinds of magic every day, it takes a lot to spook him. Mako has seen things—both in herb-fueled fever dreams and in real life—that would shake even the sturdiest of dispositions to their very core. He has heard a rumor in town that the reason his hair is white is because he once summoned a demon. Mako wishes he had that kind of power, but the boring truth is that his hair is white, because he’s old and because the men of his family usually went gray early. He doesn’t bother correcting the rumor, though. A demon summoning gone wrong sounds a lot neater even if it’s only the old people that still believe it these days. It was easier being a witch back before TV became a common household item; people were actually scared of you, _properly_ scared. But now that there have been people on the mood and people can witness “magic” performed with special effects, people just take Mako for a crazed old hippie on drugs. That’s mainly good, of course. It means people leave him alone for the most part, worried that he might come to their houses and tie-dye all their clothes or something, but Mako does miss when people were terrified of him. Oh well…

          Mako, the unmovable rock, the pillar of not being spooked, wakes up with a wail. The very first thing he sees is two large eyes the color of molten amber just less than an inch from his face. It takes Mako almost a full three seconds to realize that he’s not dreaming anymore, and when he does, he lets out a very embarrassing squeal and jerks to sit up so fast that the rat boy tumbles off his chest, off the bed, and lands on the floor with a thud and a grunt.

          “What the hell?” Mako booms angrily, trying to regain at least a little composure.

          “I’ll second that, mate, what the hell?” is the spluttered reply from the floor of the trailer.

          “What the _hell?!_ ”

          “Right, now you’re just being a cock.” The rat boy’s head pokes up. He’s grinning at Mako. His teeth are jagged and kind of sharp-looking.

          “You—you can _talk?_ ”

          “Oh. Yeah!” the rat says, pushing to his feet to climb onto the bed again. He sits down opposite Mako, knees out, feet together like yesterday. He’s naked like yesterday, too.

          “ _And?_ ” Mako demands with a bark. “Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”

          “Dunno,” the rat replies. He shrugs. “Felt like yanking your chain a bit.”

          “Yanking my chain?!” Mako is outraged. Who the hell does this kid think he is? Does he take Mako for a complete idiot? Okay, Mako actually feels like a complete idiot right now, but that only serves to make him even more furious. No one has made a fool out of Mako Rutledge and left with all their bones intact, and this kid—this rat _thing_ —will definitely not be an exception. Mako is going to make sure that he will never try and fuck with Mako like that again. Or anyone. Yeah, Mako will make damn sure that—wait, where did he go?

          Mako has been so busy seething and stewing in his own rage that he hasn’t noticed the kid limping off the bed. Mako jerks around and is met by one of the most upsetting sights he has seen in a very long time; the rat kid has opened his little fridge and—horrors of horrors— _bent down_ in front of it. Somewhere back in his head, Mako manages to register that yes, this kid does in fact have a tail, a long, pink rat tail, but it doesn’t really register on a conscious level, because Mako is distracted by being traumatized by the perfect, unobstructed view of the kid’s—well, his _everything_.

          “Hey, mate, have you got any grub? I’m starving.”

          “That’s it!”

          Mako is off the bed in a second, and he doesn’t even care that he’s naked. He grabs the rat by the tail and hauls him towards the door. The kid screeches, then hisses and spits and tries to grab onto something. But it’s too late; Mako kicks the door to the trailer open and hurls the rat out into the bright morning sun. The ground has mostly dried, save for the large puddle of mud that happens to be right where the rat lands with a sludgy _splat_.

          “And stay out!” Mako growls after him, then slams the door. He can hear the kid spluttering and coughing, then greasy footsteps up the few steps to the trailer door.

          “Aw, mate, come on!” the rat pleads on the other side of the flimsy door. He knocks with his flat hand. God damn it, the door’s going to covered in muddy handprints now. “I was only joking. Don’t be like that, mate. Come on, let me in. Please? Please? I’ll make you the best witch in the state. Fuck it, in the _country_ , mate!”

          Mako grunts and sits down on the bed, arms crossed over his chest. It’s all sweet talk and pretty words. So far, this kid has displayed zero magical talents other than being able to turn into a rat. Or is he turning into a human? It’s hard to tell; the kid doesn’t really seem to fit either species very well. It can’t be that easy to be a weird rat/human hybrid. Mako scratches his cheek. If only it wasn’t so damn annoying…

          “I know you’re trying to make your land fertile,” the rat says on the other side of the door. The smacking is getting slower. Is he giving up? “I can help you, mate. Come on, just let me stay, and I’ll help you grow whatever you want, okay?”

          This makes Mako change his mind. He sighs, rubs over his face, and he knows he’s going to regret it, but he gets up and walks over to the door. The outside of the door is, just as expected, covered in muddy handprints, but the stupid rat just grins up at him with its sharp teeth. It’s sitting on the steps up to the trailer.

          “I’m only letting you in if you agree to these rules,” Mako says, blocking the open door with his body. “Understood?”

          “Right! Anything you say, mate!”

          “Firstly, don’t call me ‘mate’. My name is Mako,” Mako says. He narrows his eyes at the rat, who nods enthusiastically at him. “Secondly, you don’t talk unless I talk to you first. Thirdly, if you’ve lied to me about being able to help me, I’ll turn you into the grossest salamander I can think of. And finally, put on some damn clothes!”

          The rat blinks up at him and doesn’t say anything.

          “Well?” Mako prompts. He’s irritated and already regretting this.

          “It’s just—I don’t own any clothes,” the rat says with a sheepish grin and a shrug. “Don’t suppose I can borrow some from you, ma—er, Mako?”

          Mako sighs and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. He’d have to sew some clothes for the kid, because there’s no way he won’t drown in Mako’s. Speaking of clothes… Mako realizes he’s still butt naked, just like the rat.

          “Fine,” he grunts and finally pulls away from the door. Without looking to see if the kid follows him, Mako shuffles over to old dresser where he keeps his clothes. They’re mostly overalls and plaid shirts, and all of them are way too big. After some rummaging around in the drawers, though, Mako finds an old Grateful Dead t-shirt that he hasn’t been able to fit into for a few years now. It’s still way too big for the kid, so Mako brings it over to the big table to work on it. The rat is still muddy and on the floor, sitting right inside the door and watching him curiously.

          “You’re gonna make a mess,” Mako grunts, gesturing in the kid’s general direction. Mako doesn’t have a shower—he usually takes baths in the mountain lake a few miles up in the mountain—he nods at the sink. There’s a scrub sponge on the edge of it. “Go clean yourself.”

          The rat jumps up and leaves muddy footprints—paw prints or whatever on the carpet. Soon after, he’s humming some strange melody while scrubbing himself down. Mako tries not to watch.

          “What’s your name anyway?” he asks as he directs his gaze back to the shirt. He cuts a broad strip out of the back of it. “If you’re gonna be my familiar, I should know your name.”

          “Name?” The rat scratches his cheek and pauses the scrubbing to stare thoughtfully into space for a bit. “Don’t reckon I’ve got one.”

          “How can you not have a name?” Mako grunts. He squeezes one eye shut as he threads the needle. It’s not easy with hands as big as his, but Mako has been making and mending his own clothes for decades now, so he’s had a lot of practice at this point.

          The kid shrugs. He’s done scrubbing himself down, and there’s water everywhere around him, but least he’s squeaky clean and scrubbed pink all over. His tail flicks.

          “Maybe I do have one, but I’ve just forgotten it?” he suggests, turning on the spot to inspect himself for any missed mud. “Can’t you just give me one? I like human names.”

          “So you’re not human?”

          “I—I dunno.”

          “How can you not know?”

          “I dunno. I’m just me.”

          “Hrm.”

          Mako has never named anyone before, and he honestly doesn’t really know how to go about it. The first name that pops into his head is the one of the former mayor of Joshua Tree, Jamison, who had been a massive pain in Mako’s ass, constantly trying find ways to force Mako to leave his mountain. But the thought of having to be constantly reminded of that pest is too much, so Mako tries to come up with something else. Bill? Johnny? Charles? Charlie? Bob? Teddington III? Mako snorts and shakes his head a bit, eyes fixed on the fabric he’s sewing. No, that stupid Jamison name has already clawed itself into his head, and none of the other names Mako can think of suits the rat. But really? Jamison? How about… Jamie? Yeah, Jamie’s way better.

          “Jamie.”

          The rat looks up. It has sat down on the opposite side of the table to watch Mako sew. It grins at him.

          “Okay! Jamie. Yeah, I like that. Hey, mate, the name’s Jamie. Jamie? Yeah, that’s my name, don’t wear it out, mate!”

          Mako sighs and rolls his eyes, but Jamie doesn’t seem to notice. He’s busy inserting his new name into all the introductory phrases he can think of. Mako tries to ignore it as he continues to work on the shirt. It’s probably not going to look very good on Jamie, but Mako has a sneaking suspicion that Jamie doesn’t care about clothes or how they look. The clothes are mostly for Mako’s sake anyway. There’s only so much penis he can stand to look at in a day, to be honest, even if it’s a nice-looking penis. Mako’s gaze strays to Jamie for a second before Mako catches it and forces it back on the clothes. Now is not the time for wandering eyes, and it does feel a little weird to eye your own familiar, because that has to be what Jamie is now. Mako has even named him.

          “Here, try this on,” Mako grunts and shoved the remodeled t-shirt across the table to Jamie. He has converted the shirt into a sort-of onsie with shorts. The bottom of the t-shirt has been cut and sewn into two legs, and Mako has cut some of the collar off and attached it around the waist as a kind of belt. To make the whole thing smaller, Mako has removed a large piece of the back of the shirt and sewn to back together again. It should fit okay, and it’s definitely better than nothing. Mako will have to pick up some clothes next time he’s in town.

          Jamie picks up the piece and looks curiously at it. It doesn’t look like he really knows what to do with it, so Mako gets up and takes it from him.

          “Here, you put it on like this.” He holds it up in front of Jamie. “Feet through here, arms through here.”

          “What about my tail?”

          “Oh. Right.”

          Mako grabs his scissors to cut a hole at the back.

          “There.”

          He hands it back to Jamie, who struggles a bit but eventually manages to put on the suit. It looks… _weird_. Not necessarily bad, but definitely weird. Mako considers Jamie for a moment while Jamie twists and turns to try and get a proper look at himself. It takes Mako a few minutes to realize that Jamie looks like some kind of bizarre Bond girl, complete with camel toe and everything.

          “This is banging, mate,” Jamie says, grinning at Mako. “Don’t think I ever had clothes before.”

          “How old are you?” Mako asks him, trying to shake the James Bond association.

          “I don’t—”

          “Right, you don’t know, but you gotta be able to give me some kind of idea here. Did you just blink into existence when I performed the ritual or what?”

          “Oh no, no!” Jamie says and huffs a laugh. He crawls back onto the bench opposite Mako. “No, I do remember things. It’s just my perception of time is kinda off.”

          “Okay, so what do you remember?”

          Jamie scratches his chin with his only hand and thinks for a moment. Mako had almost lost hope when he perks up and says, “War!”

          “What?”

          “I definitely remember people fighting,” Jamie says, looking pretty happy for someone who has memories of war. “Yeah, lots of people fighting and dying!”

          “War? Here?” Mako scratches through his loose, ponytailed hair. Then he realizes that, damn it, he’s still naked. Stupid Jamie and his stupid distracting— _everything_. He gets up and goes to the dresser to find clothes for himself.

          “Yeah, reckon it was,” Jamie says from behind Mako. “It was the white folk against the, uh… the snake people.”

          “Snake people,” Mako deadpans. He looks over his shoulder. “People who were snakes?”

          “No, no, not real snakes!” Jamie huffs. “No, they lived by a river called Snake River, see? The snake people lived there first, but the white folk—”

          “Wait, you mean the Snake Wars?” Mako turns around with only one leg in the overalls he’s in the middle of putting on. “As in the wars between white settlers and the Northern Paiute, Bannock, and Shoshone tribes?”

          “Oh, I don’t know what they were called,” Jamie says with a tap on his chin. “But I do remember that they always seemed nice to me.”

          “But those wars happened 100 years ago,” Mako says incredulously. “How can you be more than 100 years old? You look like you’re, I don’t know, 25.”

          “How am I supposed to know?” Jamie says, and his gaze travels down Mako’s body. A grin spreads on his thin lips, and Mako quickly pulls on the overalls with his cheeks feeling annoyingly hot.

          “Well, you’re the—the rat, aren’t you?”

          “Yeah, but aren’t you the expert on this stuff here?” Jamie asks, nodding towards the bookshelves filled with books on magic. “I’m just living my life, mate. I can’t even read. I was just minding my own business one night when you suddenly summon me and I plop down right in front of your trailer.”

          This is infuriating. Mako had always thought a familiar would know things, know secrets about magic that had never been written down and that would make the witch’s magic stronger. But apparently not.

          “So what are you? Some kinda skin-walker?” he asks Jamie even though he highly doubts it. Jamie looks about as pale as they come, and although Mako is supposed to have some Native blood in him somewhere far back in his family tree, he doesn’t feel like he would ever be able to summon the forces the American tribespeople commanded (no matter how much he wishes he could, because those people really knew their stuff). And finally, as far as Mako knows, skin-walkers come from Navajo culture, and the Navajo didn’t live in California. Of course, if Jamie is more than 100 years old, he would have time to travel...

          “Nah,” Jamie says, shaking his head so his blond, patchy hair puffs a bit up. “I’ve met one of them once. Mean fellow. Very powerful, though. Wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of a skin-walker.”

          Mako huffs in frustration.

          “Then what _are_ you?!”

          “I’m just me, mate!” Jamie barks, flying to his feet. “I’m just good, old Jamie, who gotten stuck with you, so you better suck it up, because you’re not getting another familiar, I’m pretty bloody sure about that!”

          Mako glares at Jamie, and Jamie glares back. So, they’re stuck together? Mako supposes there are worse things in the world, but he’s struggling to think of any right now. Right, the Vietnam War. Yeah, that’s way worse.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :)
> 
> The next chapter will hopefully be up soon, but seeing as I haven't even started writing it yet, it might take a couple of weeks. Anyway, I hope you will stick around.
> 
> Please remember to leave me a kudos or comment! Your feedback really means the world to me, ngl
> 
> Also, remember that you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


	4. The Dip in the Quail Mountain Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Mako are still trying to figure out how to make Mako's lands fertile while trying to get used to living together as witch and familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so three weeks passed anyway, but hey... that's how life goes sometimes. My excuse is that I spent the better part of a week in the Midwest, being surrounded by Trump supporters and religious people while trying really hard not to implode :')
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter! I hope you like it!

*

 

 

It has been exactly one month since the rat boy now known as Jamie elbowed his way into Mako’s life, and for a while there, Mako’s life had been turned upside down. The presence of another person (or whatever Jamie is) in his life had been quite a change, but it turns out that for some reason—and despite Jamie being aggressively annoying sometimes—Jamie fits it pretty well in that little hole there apparently had been in Mako’s life. Of course, it’s pretty easy to fit in anywhere when all you do all day is sleep and eat. Mako just goes about his day, and eventually Jamie will emerge from the trailer. He usually rises around dusk, yawning and scratching himself in various crevices, and generally looking like he’s been up all night hard at work at something. Maybe he has? They did make the deal that Jamie could only stay if he helped Mako get the soil fertile, and although they haven’t exactly talked details, Mako figures that Jamie is keeping up his end of the deal. He’s usually eating when Mako goes to bed around sundown, and the few times Mako has woken up in the middle of the night to pee or just get some water, Jamie has been absent from the bed (yes, they share the bed, and Mako doesn’t want to talk about it), but he’s always back when Mako wake up at sunrise. Jamie’s dirty when Mako wakes up, but Jamie is honestly always dirty, so it’s hard to tell if he’s dirtier than he was before or not. He just hisses when Mako suggests that he wash himself, and he’s generally a pretty terrible slob. Then again, why would he know about cleaning after himself when he’s never lived in a house with anyone before? Mako has tried asking him about more of his past, but Jamie doesn’t seem to be able to tell it apart. If you’re a hundred years old, then the years must meld together after a while, especially when all you do is eat and sleep.

          “What do you do at night?” Mako finally asks Jamie one evening when they’re sitting outside on the small porch behind the trailer. Mako is nursing a glass of cheap bourbon, and Jamie is gnawing the meat off a chicken bone. He’s still wearing the same, tattered t-shirt romper thing that Mako made for him. It’s just as dirty as the rest of the rat, but Mako hasn’t successfully talked Jamie into taking it off so Mako can wash it. And Jamie refuses to wear any of the clothes Mako has bought in the second-hand store in town for him. He has apparently taken quite a shine to the stupid suit Mako made. It would be sweet if Mako wasn’t worried about hygiene.

          “What night?” Jamie looks up from the bone that he has meticulously cleaned for everything even resembling meat.

          “Every night,” Mako says and sips his drink. “I know you’re doing something.”

          “Oh.” Jamie grins and carefully places the stripped bone on the edge of the plate on small wooden table next to his battered, old wicker chair. He shifts in it, and it squeaks loudly. “I’m trying to do my job.”

          “Your job?”

          “Right, you wanted to make your lands fertile, yeah?”

          “Yes.”

          “Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, mate.” Jamie grins. “Ain’t easy, though. Been talking to everyone, but no one can help.”

          “You… been talking to people? Who?”

          “Not _people_ , per say, no,” Jamie says, stretching his long arm and a half over his head with a groan as several of his joints crack. “More like, you know, entities. Spirits, critters, anyone who might be able to help.”

          “And?”

          “And most of them don’t have a clue. They’re just living their lives, right? Not really interested in magic. But I did meet an old arroyo toad, who said—come to think of it, I don’t think he was a toad at all. Might’ve been a disguise…”

          “What did he say?” Mako urged. Despite knowing a lot about nature magic and spirits, it’s still surprising and exciting for him to be told that his land is apparently full of all kinds of supernatural creatures.

          “Oh, right, he said that I probably couldn’t help you on my own,” Jamie explains. He lifts his rat-pad foot and starts picking at the strange toes. “Told me I probably need help from someone.”

          “Who?”

          Jamie stops picking at his weird toes and glances at Mako. He looks concerned, which is a very strange look on him.

          “What? You can’t tell me?” Mako prompts.

          “It’s not that I can’t tell you, but…” Jamie rubs the back of his skinny neck. “I don’t know, mate, you might not want to hear it.”

          “Why wouldn’t I want to hear it? I’m the one who summoned you.”

          “I know, but you’re like—you’re a good person, yeah? Don’t want to dabble in the dark arts, right?”

          Mako frowns. Dark arts? Is this kid really saying that it’s going to take dark magic just to make his lands fertile? What the hell?

          “You’re supposed to use dark magic?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at Jamie. “What the hell does a toad know about that?”

          “Well, not _dark_ dark arts,” Jamie says. “Just, you know…” He shrugs.

          “God damn it, Jamie, spit it out,” Mako huffs, and he leans closer to Jamie with a pretty menacing grimace. It seems to work, because Jamie twitches a bit in the chair.

          “It’s a demon, okay?” Jamie finally explains. “He said we need to summon a demon.”

          “A demon.”

          Mako doesn’t believe what he’s hearing.

          “Not a big, scary one, just a little one!” Jamie continues. “S’not even like a real demon, but more like a demonic sprite or something, alright? We need someone who can meddle with these things, see? It’s not just a simple trick to turn infertile soil fertile apparently. I thought it was, but you need deep, old magic to do that kind of thing as it turns out.”

          “A demon? Seriously?”

          Sure, Mako has sometimes dabbled in stuff that was just on this side of good, pure magic, but an actual demon summoning? He has heard stories witches who have made deals with demons, and they rarely end well. Back in the olden, Black Death days, European witches would make lots of deals with demons, but it had been a different time back then, a darker time. Witches—men and women—would get attacked and killed even if they weren’t even actual witches, but just midwives or wise, old men that cooked up herbals drinks against ailments and sicknesses. But these are not the olden days, these are modern and enlightened days, and summoning a demon? That honestly doesn’t sit super well with Mako. His concern must have read on his face, because Jamie shakes his head.

          “Yeah, that’s what I said,” he mumbles, his pointed ears twitching a bit as he reaches for another piece of chicken from the plate on the table. He starts gnawing at it.

          “I told him you wouldn’t be into that,” he says through a mouthful of chicken meat and skin. “Old toad said it’s the only way, though.”

          “How would he know, he’s just a toad,” Mako grunted.

          “I did say I don’t reckon he’s a toad at all,” Jamie commented, back to gnawing at the chicken again. “He’s probably some kind of deity. Or maybe just a druid? I know there’s a couple of druids around.”

          “A druid…”

          Mako rubs over his face. This was all a little too much to process. Jamie frowns at him over his chicken bone.

          “Look, mate, we don’t have to do it,” he offers. “It’s just, I don’t think there’s another way. I’ve really been looking into this.”

          “But all my books—”

          “Bah, books don’t teach you nothing,” Jamie snorts and leans over to balance the second chicken bone on top of the first. “This is ancient magic, cobber. No book’s gonna help you.”

          Mako nods, then groan and leans back in his chair. Is he really willing to do something like this for a bit of fertile land? Then again, what else is he going to do? He will have to either following Jamie’s suggestion or live the rest of his life on infertile ground without being able to grow anything himself.

          “Fine,” Mako finally says. He sighs and downs the rest of his drink. What does he have to lose, anyway? His immortal soul, sure, but he wasn’t really using it. Mako chuckles bitterly to himself.

          “Right! Bonzer, mate!” Jamie says, perking up in his chair. “Like I said, you know, it’s not a big deal, really. A nice, simple demon sprite should do it. We don’t need no major scale baddies here.”

          Mako grunts in reply. He’s pretty sure he will regret this. In fact, he’s already regretting it, but there’s nothing to do about it now. Mako doesn’t like to chicken out on things. But Jamie tells him not to worry about it, because Jamie will sort it out, so Mako stops worrying about summoning demons and instead starts worrying about Jamie’s hygiene.

          “What’s that?”

          “A bath,” Mako repeats and closes the door to the trailer. He has deliberately waited until he had Jamie cornered inside the trailer to bring this up. He doesn’t want Jamie to turn tails.

          “Nah, mate, I’m good as is,” Jamie says as he grins nervously up at Mako who’s towering over him. Jamie creeps a bit backwards on the bed. “W-what’s got you asking anyway?” He knows he’s toast.

          It’s a very impressive display of emotions from Jamie as Mako drags him by the tail off to the mountain lake where Mako usually bathes; Jamie goes through all the five stages of grief in the 10 minutes it takes them to get there.

          “Come on, mate, you wouldn’t do this to an old friend, would you?” (Denial)

          “You can’t do this! I’m your familiar! I deserve some bloody respect!” (Anger)

          “Mako! Hey, Mako, I’ll conjure something real ace up for you if you let me go. What do you say, eh? Maybe, like, uhhh… a lady! No? A man? A pig? _Ow!_ ” (Barganing)

          “I can’t believe it’s come to this. I feel so pathetic, so useless.” (Depression)

          “Oi, could you hurry up? The faster we get there, the faster it’s over.” (Acceptance)

          “Quit your whining,” Mako grunts, slightly out of breath, as they finally reach the lake. The sun has almost disappeared behind the distant mountain ridges, and it bathes the entire valley in a warm, orange glow. It’s beautiful. Even Jamie stops complaining for a moment.

          “Wow, that’s—that’s gorgeous,” Jamie mutters as if he’s never seen a sunset before. His eyes go wide as he stares at the golden light glinting on the smooth surface of the lake, and Mako gets a bit lost for a moment when he realizes that Jamie’s eyes are exactly the same color as the setting sun. He can’t help but wonder what it means. Why does this ragged, filthy creature, caught halfway between two species, have eyes like that? Eyes that can make Mako forget to breathe and make time forget to march?

          “Yeah,” Mako mumbles quietly, still gazing at Jamie’s wide, fire-golden eyes. The left one still has that black speck that looks like a bug. Mako blinks.

          “You have nice eyes,” he says. Jamie blinks and looks up at him with those same eyes.

          “What?”

          “You heard me.”

          “No one’s ever told me I have nice eyes before.”

          Jamie seems almost shaken. Mako gets the feeling that Jamie doesn’t get many compliments. Then again, he’s not exactly handsome (neither as rat nor rat-boy), but his eyes are still nice-looking. But this isn’t the time to gaze into some weird rat-boy’s eyes.

          “W-wait, what’re you— _argh!_ ”

          Mako notices that Jamie weighs a bit more than the last time he picked him up, but he doesn’t waste time thinking about it. He tosses Jamie right into the cool water. Jamie wriggles and seems to be suspended in midair for just a second (Mako briefly wonders if he’s using some kind of magic trick to avoid the water), but then he flops down into the water very gracelessly with a huge splash. Mako can’t help himself; he roars with laugher when Jamie emerges a moment later, spluttering and cursing and looking exorbitantly disgruntled as he glares up at Mako, big, wet tufts of dirty blond hair plastered to his flushed face.

          “You miserable, old cunt!” Jamie rages, waving his only fist at Mako. “Stop laughing, you—why are you taking your kit off? What’s going on?”

          Mako, suddenly gripped by a stroke of inspiration, quickly gets out of his overalls and leaves his flip-flops on the ground as he sprints towards the lakeshore, then sets off into the biggest jump he can muster.

          “ _Cannonball!_ ”

          Jamie squeaks and splashes around to get away before Mako hits the water, and he manages to narrowly avoid getting dunked by Mako’s bare ass. He must have been caught up in the resulting wave, though, because when Mako comes up again, he’s several feet away, coughing and hiccupping. For a moment Mako thinks Jamie is angry and raging at him still, but he realizes that Jamie isn’t spluttering with rage but with laughter. He hugs his skinny torso with his one and a half arms, laughing so hard, his face turns pink and Mako gets a little worried that he’s choking or something.

          “That was bloody brilliant, mate!” Jamie finally manages to gasp out between hiccups. There’s something very _human_ about him in that moment, and Mako almost forgets about the whole magic familiar deal until Jamie jumps in the water and flashes his twitching tail.

          “Come here,” Mako grunts and grabs Jamie’s one spindly wrist to tug him closer. Jamie doesn’t struggle this time. “You’re filthy.”

          “I don’t give a toss,” Jamie snorts, but he doesn’t struggle when Mako starts pouring water over his head and rubbing the dirt out of his hair.

          “Well, I do,” Mako huffs. “I’m the one who has to smell you all day.”

          “Ah, come off it, I don’t smell!” Jamie argues. “Besides, it’s not like you’re the king of being clean either.”

          “What’s that supposed to mean?”

          “Your trailer, mate,” Jamie snickers.

          “What about it?”

          “Well—”

          “Okay, so it’s not the cleanest place on the planet, but at least _I_ keep clean. I don’t sit around smelling like ass all day.”

          “Hey, I don’t smell like ass!”

          “Tell that to my nose.”

          “I’d like to punch your nose right now.”

          “With those noodle arms? I bet you couldn’t even give me a nosebleed.”

          Jamie splutters in explosive rage, and Mako just chuckles; Jamie doesn’t look especially menacing normally, but even less now that he’s soaking wet and his dirty blond hair is covering most of his freckled face.

          “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re angry,” Mako hums. He has no trouble keeping the furious rat at bay by planting a big hand in the middle of his chest.

          “Go fly a kite, you big dolt!” Jamie snarls, clawing at Mako’s thick forearm and kicking his legs in the water to try and swim closer to him. “I won’t take this disrespect! I’m your familiar! You should treat me like—”

          “Like a rat?”

          “Like your trusted assistant! Like—like the friend who’s going to help you get what you want. I’m doing that for free, you know.”

          “Alright, fine, I’m sorry,” Mako snorts and removes his hand from Jamie’s chest. But Jamie is apparently still kicking in the water, because the moment Mako removes his hand, Jamie zooms through the water and smacks his face right between Mako’s tits with a muffled “ _Oomf!_ ” Mako looks down in amusement as Jamie flinches and hurries to paddle away. His entire face is about as pink as the setting sun’s last rays coating the scattered skies. He’s shivering a bit, too, which Mako takes as a sign that they should be getting back to the trailer. The air is getting cooler, anyway. The days might be scorching hot, but the nights are still cold as fuck, and Mako would prefer not to be caught bare-assed outside once the sun has disappeared entirely behind the mountains. So he starts wading back to the lakeshore. When Jamie doesn’t follow him, Mako looks over his shoulder. He crouched down in the water; only his head is visible over the surface and he’s not looking towards Mako at all.

          “Come on, it’s getting cold,” Mako says as he walks out of the water and up to where he left his overalls. His skin rises in goosebumps when a cool breeze hits it.

          “Be there in a tick,” Jamie just says, still not looking at Mako.

          Mako shakes the dirt off his clothes, then puts it on.

          “You realize it’s going to be freezing very soon, right?” he asks Jamie.

          “Just go on, I’ll be right there, mate.” Jamie sounds a bit weird.

          Mako rolls his eyes.

          “Don’t tell me you’re still angry,” he grunts as he gathers his hair in a loose ponytail. “I was just joking.”

          “I’m not mad, just give a fella some bloody privacy!” Jamie snaps.

          “If you wake up with a cold tomo—”

          “I’m not a bloody child, okay? I’m twice your age, mate, so just hop it, okay? I can take care of myself!”

          Mako groans and stalks off. God damn it, what is wrong with that kid? He may be more than double Mako’s age, but he’s acting like a goddamn teenager, and Mako is less than fond of teenagers. Young people? Sure. They’re mostly more open-minded than their parents, and Mako has a pretty good relationship with a pothead who lives a few towns East and who provides him with excellent pot whenever Mako’s in the mood for that. And the music they make is great. But teenagers? Yuck! They’re nothing but horny sacks of hormones, covered in pimples and greasy hair. Mako is definitely not a fan. The thought that maybe in whatever race or species Jamie belongs to, 100 years old is about the equivalent of 15 years in humans is scary enough that Mako almost decides to lock his trailer door and never let Jamie back inside again. But no, it’s way too late for that. They’re bonded now, right? Mako could maybe get another familiar if he tried really hard, but it probably wouldn’t be the same. The first familiar is always the best match, and whatever deity or energy or _creature_ who is responsible for Mako’s magical abilities probably wouldn’t view him abandoning his familiar for something as lame as irritation with kind eyes.

          So Mako doesn’t lock the trailer door, and it’s only a few moments later that Jamie returns from the lake, just like he said he would, and he seems a lot more relaxed and easy-going. The strange awkwardness and tension has completely evaporated, which is nice, because Mako doubts he could handle an entire night of it. But no, Jamie is back to his old, twitchy and talkative self again, and they spend most of the evening planning out how they’re going to do the summoning ritual. Now that it has been decided that that’s what they’re going to do, Mako is actually a bit anxious to get started, but even if they had all the remedies for the ritual, they can’t do it right away anyway. Every witch knows that if you want to do a powerful spell, you do it on one of the special dates where the magic will be most potent. This means that they will have to wait two weeks for the Summer Solstice. It’s the day that marks the advent of the dark, the coming of autumn. It’s where the crops are planted and where nature is at its most bountiful. It’s a happy day, and at midnight, Jamie and Mako will attempt to bring out a demon that might help them.

          “We’ll probably have to offer it something,” Jamie muses, tapping his chin with a long finger. “Demons rarely do anything for free.”

          “Like what?” Mako wonders. “I don’t have any treasure or firstborns to give it. I’m pretty unlikely to have any, too.”

          “Ah, don’t say that!” Jamie says and waves a hand dismissively at Mako. “You’re a handsome fellow, and you’re still in your prime, aren’t you?”

          “Yeah, but it would require me to mate with a woman,” Mako grunts. “And I’m not about that. Not at all.”

          “Oh.”

          Mako isn’t sure what he had expected, but Jamie goes a bit quiet after that. Does he have something against it? It’s hard to tell, and Mako is pretty sure he’s never really hard of bigotry in nature. Then again, Jamie is a sort of strange in-between, caught between two worlds. Can’t be easy. Still, Mako isn’t fond of the way Jamie’s gaze doesn’t meet his for a while after Mako’s “confession”.

          But whatever was Jamie’s problem, it seems to go away when they start making a list of all the stuff they’re going to need for the ritual: dried herbs to burn and brew, candles, spices, fruits and vegetables, an animal to sacrifice (just a small one, nothing dramatic), and so on. The list is pretty long, and by the time they finally agree that it’s done, it’s way past midnight. Mako is exhausted, and Jamie actually seems to be ready for bed, too. Maybe his power to stay up all night was all in his dirt? Mako snorts and shakes his head as he finishes brushing his teeth over the small sink in the trailer. Jamie has refused to brush his teeth at first, but after a few weeks, his breath had gotten so bad that Mako had insisted very hard on it lest Jamie wanted to spend his time sleeping on the porch instead of in the warm bed with Mako. Jamie had grudgingly given in, but he had quickly forgotten to be sullen when he had realized how much fun he could have with the foam from the toothpaste.

          “Oh no, mate!” Jamie breathes out and slumps backwards against the kitchen counter, the white foam dripping off his chin. “I’ve gone rabid, mate! Better kill me off before I ravage you!”

          “You realize you do this every night, right?” Mako drones and rolls his eyes even though he secretly enjoys this little nighttime ritual they have.

          “Pfff, so what? It’s still funny,” Jamie huffs and winks at Mako. It feels a bit strange when Jamie winks at him while at the same time being totally naked (Jamie’s homemade t-shirt suit is drying on the clothesline outside). Mako just shakes his head and washes his mouth, then shuffles off to bed. He undresses before crawling under the sheets and settling on his back like he always does. It’s not until Jamie crawls over him and settles between him and the wall that Mako remembers that, yeah, Jamie is going to fall asleep next to him tonight. It’s been so long since they last fell asleep together that Mako has almost forgotten how. It feels kind of weird and awkward, but Jamie doesn’t seem to notice. He just shuffles around for a bit before settling with his back to Mako and his skinny knees pulled up to his chest. He smells fresh like lake water and the organic mint toothpaste Mako gets from the one hippie store in town.

          “Night,” Mako hums, closing his eyes with a sigh as the minty smell tickles his nostrils.

          “Goodnight, Mako,” Jamie whispers, and as Mako falls asleep he feels Jamie’s smooth tail brushing against his thigh.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaa! I hope you liked it :D
> 
> This chapter was a bit of a bridge, I guess, but I hope you don't mind. The next chapter will see some pretty big stuff happening, so I hope you're ready for that!
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	5. The Hay Geek’s Seeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's demon summoning time, so make sure you're wearing your demon summoning pants!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G'day, and welcome to chapter 5!
> 
> This chapter contains two cameos that you may or may not have guessed already ;)
> 
> Have fun!

*

 

When Mako wakes up the next morning, Jamie’s tail has curled itself tightly around his leg. For one crazy moment, Mako thinks it’s a snake that has slithered into bed with them, but he quickly realizes that no, it’s just Jamie’s damn tail. Jamie himself is still curled up on his side, back to Mako. His slightly-too-big ears are twitching a bit when Mako moves in the sheets, and for a moment he looks almost cute as he lies there, all quiet and soft and warm. Mako knows better than to be swayed by the sight, though, because he knows it’s only a matter of time before Jamie is back to his twitchy, annoying, and loud-mouthed self.

          As much as Mako would like to lie here and enjoy the quiet, he really has to pee. So he reaches down and very carefully and very gently unwraps Jamie’s tail from his leg. Jamie grunts and shifts a bit, but he thankfully stays asleep—Mako isn’t ready for the quiet to end just yet. He slides out of bed and finds some clothes (this time a tie-dye kaftan in purple and black that he got at Woodstock a few years back), then sets a pot of water to boil on the gas burner before slipping out of the trailer’s backdoor.

          It’s still a bit chilly outside, and the sun has only just peeked up behind the mountains. There’s a lizard on the porch when Mako comes out. It’s sitting right at the end where the weak morning sun’s rays hit the deck, sucking whatever heat it can get out of the pale light. One of its eyes is missing. Mako shuffles over to the dried out, old bush that’s his favorite pissing spot. The lizard just blinks at him. Mako stares at it, and it stares back. He loses himself completely in the black, lidless eye, and it’s not until the kettle starts whistling inside the trailer that Mako realizes that he’s still standing there with his dick out.

          Dropping the kaftan to cover himself up, Mako rushes back inside the trailer to take the howling kettle off the burner. It doesn’t seem like the whistling has woken up Jamie, which is a bit weird, because it was very loud, but he’s still in bed when Mako enters the trailer. When Mako shuts the whistling off and pours the hot water into his teapot, however, he notices that the bed is moving, rocking slightly back and forth.

          “What the hell are you doing in my fucking bed?” Mako howls, and before he can stop and think about how much of a terrible idea it would be, he rips the sheets off Jamie to expose—well, what had he been expecting? That he wasn’t going to get a full, unobstructed view of Jamie’s last remaining hand wrapped tightly around… Turns out Jamie is a grower, not a shower.

          “Oi, how about some privacy, mate?” Jamie complains loudly, but the little shit doesn’t do anything to cover himself up. In fact, he looks like he’s about to laugh. Mako is definitely not in the mood to laugh.

          “Privacy? You’re _jerking off_ on my fucking bed! What is wrong with you? People don’t do that!”

          “I ain’t people, mate.”

          This time Jamie actually has the nerve to snicker, and Mako really has to restrain himself not to strangle Jamie right then and there. It must have shown on his face, too, because Jamie immediately stops snickering.

          “I’ll be done in a minute. Just need to let off some stea—”

          “I don’t give a shit why you’re doing it, I just want you to stop!”

          “But then I’ll have a hard-on all day!”

          Mako groans and rubs over his face. He turns on his heel, grabs the teapot and a mug, then stalks over to the backdoor and wrenches it open.

          “I swear to god, if you stain my fucking sheets, I’ll rip your tail off and feed it to you,” is all he says to Jamie before exiting the trailer and slamming the door shut.

          “Fucking rat,” Mako grunts to himself once he’s alone outside—well, almost alone. The lizard is still sitting on the edge of the porch, watching him. Or rather, in the lizard’s stead, there’s sitting a very small, very old man. He has a long, braided beard that easily reaches his knees, and he’s missing the same eye as the lizard.

          The whole thing is so absurd that it takes Mako a full three seconds of staring dumbly at the ex-lizard before he can even react to it. He blinks. Then he hisses and jumps backwards, almost dropping his mug of scolding hot herbal tea in the process. The old guy just snorts, and Mako really wishes he could toss balls of fire right about now.

          “What the hell?!” he yelps, his voice a lot more high-pitched than what he’s comfortable with. “Who are you?!”

          “Name’s Torbjørn,” the old guy says, completely unfazed, and gets to his feet (it honestly doesn’t make much of a difference in his height). “But most people call me Torby. Easier for you English-speaking folk.”

          Mako is too shocked to even reply. The old guy—Torby—has the strangest accent Mako has ever heard, and he’s almost more weirded out more by that than the fact that a tiny, old man just appeared on his porch.

          “Anyway,” Torby says when Mako just stares at him, “I’ve been having a word or two with your tailed friend. About the soil here?”

          “You— _you’re_ the old toad?”

          “Sometimes a toad, sometimes a lizard,” Torby says and waves a hand in the air as if it’s totally normal to randomly change into toads and lizards. “I actually wanted to speak to your fr—”

          “Wait a minute!” Something awful dawns on Mako. “You’ve been out here all morning, right? You were out here when I—when I was—”

          “Yes, yes, I saw your penis,” Torby huffs and shakes his head, clearly not embarrassed by that at all. “Tell your friend I said congratulations.”

          “I— _what?_ You think—we’re not—!” Mako splutters, heat instantly rising in his cheeks. What the hell is this old fart playing at? “He’s my familiar!”

          “That never stopped anyone before,” Torby chuckles, wagging a finger at Mako like he’s some naughty schoolkid.

          “It’s not like that here,” Mako bites, hating the way his ears are burning.

          “Alright, no harm done,” Torby says and scratches his beard. “Where is he? I have news about the little trick you fellows are trying to pull off.”

          “He’s, uh, he… He’s in trailer.” Mako sighs and rubs over his hot face.

          “Sleeping?”

          Mako downs his tea, which has turned a bit cold by now, to try and buy himself some time to make something up, because he really doesn’t want to tell Torby what Jamie is doing in the bed. But before he can open his mouth again, Jamie comes out the trailer door, looking infuriatingly chipper (at least he’s not naked).

          “Who’re you?” He blinks at Torby.

          “You mean you don’t recognize your old, amphibious friend?” Torby asks with mock hurt.

          “Oh!” Jamie lights up with a wide grin. “Oh, right! Groovy, mate. I did figure you wasn’t a real toad.”

          “Quite the genius, eh?” Torby chuckles, and Mako instantly likes him a little bit better. “Where’ve you been anyway? I’ve been waiting since sunrise.”

          “Oh, I was having a wank,” Jamie replies earnestly. Mako can feel Torby’s gaze shift to him, but he refuses to meet it. “Just got done when I heard someone yelling.”

          “Your friend seems a bit on edge,” Torby remarks and nods at Mako, who’s this close to tossing his mug of tea at him. “Anyway, I think I have cracked the code, so to speak.”

          “Really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

          “Well, you were busy wanking with your friend.”

          Mako leaves. He really doesn’t have the stomach to listen to this, and at this point, he doesn’t even care what code Torby is talking about.

          “Mate, where’re you going?” Jamie calls when Mako makes for the trailer door.

          “Town. Groceries,” is all Mako grunts.

          “But—!”

          Mako slams the door behind him before Jamie can say anything else. He doesn’t even care that the townspeople will see him in what in their eyes effectively constitutes a large dress. He really doesn’t care. He’s had it with rat boys and lizard men for a while, and even though he would never have thought so, Mako really craves a bit of normalcy right now, and the town is the only other place he can think of to go. Even the guy in the tiny hippie shop is too abnormal to Mako right now. He feels a little bad for just leaving like that, but he pushes it out of his mind and instead spends almost two hours perusing the supermarket’s shelves. Had he been anyone else, the one store detective would probably have asked him to leave, but as he is who he is, and as he’s as big as he is, Glen who has always wanted to be a cop, but was deemed unfit for service, settles on keeping a sharp eye on him over the rim of his coffee cup.

          It’s almost lunch time by the time Mako finally returns to the trailer. It’s hot as hell, which makes it even weird that Jamie is outside when Mako parks the truck next to the trailer. Jamie is sitting on the front porch, fiddling with something that looks like an old sack of potatoes. He looks up when Mako gets out of the truck and beams at him.

          “D’you get them?” he asks, the sack of potatoes in his lap.

          “What?” Mako is too busy wondering what the hell Jamie is doing with that old sack.

          “The groceries.”

          “Oh. Right.” Mako turns and goes back to the truck to fetch the stuff he bought at the store. It’s actually only one item, and he tosses it to Jamie, who catches it surprisingly deftly with his one hand.

          “I don’t know if you’ve ever had peanut butter,” Mako explains, and he’s really not in the mood to meet Jamie’s gaze as he does so. “This is crunchy. It comes in a creamy version, too, if you don’t like the crunch.”

          When Mako finally looks up, Jamie is busy trying to open the glass jar. It can’t be easy with just one hand, and although Mako has never seen Jamie having trouble due to his missing limb, it seems like this might be it. Jamie tries to hold the jar between his skinny knees as he twists the lid with his hand, but it’s on too tight. His too-large ears are turning pink.

          “Here,” Mako mutters and holds out a hand in a silent offer of help that Jamie can take if he wants it. He does, and Mako quickly unscrews the lid before handing it back to Jamie. He half expects Jamie to dive right in, but instead, Jamie just stares down into the jar with wide eyes, and it takes Mako a moment to realize that he’s admiring the perfectly smooth surface of the untouched peanut butter.

          “How does…?” Jamie asks after staring into the jar for another moment. He finally lifts his gaze to blink at Mako. It’s such a simple thing, but how should Jamie know about peanut butter anyway? He’s been living as a rat for a hundred years.

          “Hold on,” Mako grunts, and he passes Jamie to go into the trailer. He emerges a minute later with a spoon, and take the jar from Jamie to dip the spoon in the golden brown paste. A big, fat scoop of the butter sticks to the spoon when Mako pulls it out again, and he gives Jamie the spoon, who sniffs it, then gives it a lick.

          Mako has seen many things in his long, weird life, but he has never before seen someone consume a jar of peanut butter this fast. If Mako hadn’t been watching it with his own two eyes, he would be tempted to think that Jamie literally snorted the peanut butter up, it’s gone that fast. It’s kind of endearing, to be honest, the way Jamie burps and grins up at him, peanut butter on his chin. Mako is pretty sure that if Jamie had whiskers, there would be peanut butter on them.

          “Where’s your friend?” Mako asks when he realizes that he’s just standing there, staring at Jamie. “What did he want?”

          “Oh, he left,” Jamie replies with a shrug, fingers feeling around inside the jar for any peanut butter he might have missed. “Just came ‘round to tell me more about how to summon that demon.”

          “Alright, uh, so how do we do that?” Mako can’t help but look around; is that lizard guy still around, watching them?

          “Well, the spell should be fairly simple, actually,” Jamie explains and holds up the burlap sack, he was fiddling with when Mako returned. “But it needs a vessel, so I’m making one.”

          Jamie has cut and sewn the sack into what looks like some kind of horrible misshapen face mask with two big eye holes and a wide, grinning mouth. It’s pretty terrifying, really.

          “A vessel? The demon doesn’t have a physical form?”

          “Well, yes, but Torby said they only manifest in their own physical form if they’re threatened or something like that. We only need to ask it a teeny favor, don’t we? No need for the whole hurrah.”

          “I guess not,” Mako mutters and taps his chin. It sounds reasonable enough, he thinks. “So, you’re making, what, a scarecrow?” He gestures at the creepy face in Jamie’s lap.

          “Figured it suited the theme,” Jamie grins, and Mako has to agree with him, but it’s hard not to comment on how ugly the scarecrow looks. Jamie looks very proud of it, though, so Mako keeps his trap shut. He does help Jamie a bit with the making of the rest of the scarecrow’s body. They use some of the clothes that Mako got for Jamie from the second hand shop; a red and black flannel shirt and a pair of brown overalls (Mako still doesn’t get why Jamie refuses to wear anything but that weird repurposed t-shirt suit Mako made for him back then), and they stuff it full of hay to make out the body and ties it all together with rope. Mako thinks it’s ridiculous, but Jamie gets pissy and insists that it needs hair, too, so Mako eventually gives in and lets Jamie give the horror a messy hay ponytail. The whole, terrifying figure is finished with two old garden gloves as hands before they hang the abomination on a stick out back. It honestly looks like the stuff nightmares are made of, and the thought that it’s going to be inhabited by a demon sends chills down Mako’s spine. It doesn’t help that after a rainy night where they discover that the hay is coming out of the monster’s eyes, Jamie gets the brilliant idea of smashing two empty coke bottles and sticking the bottoms into the eyeholes.

          It feels like the scarecrow is watching his every move, and not a single day goes by where Mako doesn’t feel like tearing the thing down and toss it down the ravine a few miles up the mountain road. But Summer Solstice is at midnight, and Mako is a grown man _and_ a fully capable witch, god damn it! Why should he be scared of a stupid geek of hay? It’s strange, but Mako is pretty sure he will feel a lot better when the scarecrow is actually inhabited by a demon instead of hanging lifelessly on the stick, grinning its stupid grin at him night and day. Ugh.

          Mako shudders and turns in the bed during the afternoon nap; even though he doesn’t like to look at it through the trailer windows, it’s far worse having his back to it. Jamie doesn’t seem to mind or care much about the abomination he’s created. Not at all, actually. He’s just lying there in bed, snoring softly with his stupid, twitching tail and stupid, twitching ears, all nice and soft, and Mako is really pissed off that Jamie isn’t feeling the same kind of dread that he is about this damned scarecrow. Not even when they’re standing in front of the scarecrow a few minutes to midnight does Jamie look troubled at all. He just beams at Mako while he lights the bundles of sage and weed they have gathered for the ritual. Being high is not a requirement for the ritual to succeed, Torby has told them, but it certainly helps and makes it more fun! Mako has a hard time seeing how summoning a demon can ever be fun, but he never misses an opportunity to get high, and it actually helps calm his nerves a bit.

          “So what? I just say the words?” Mako asks and blinks at Jamie who’s lighting the large, orange candles they’ve places in a circle around the scarecrow. “Just out loud? I shouldn’t—I don’t know, meditate or something?”

          “Nah, Torby said you just say the words out loud and then the demon jumps into the vessel,” Jamie replies, tossing the used match over his shoulder. He stands up straight for a moment, groaning as his back cracks, then goes back to his usual, hunched-over posture. Maybe the bad posture comes from living so many years as a rat?

          “Well, uh, okay,” Mako mutters and draws a breath. He closes his eyes, concentrates, then says, loudly and clearly like he usually does, “ _Attenrobendum eos, ad ligandum eos, potiter eos, coram me._ ”

          The words echo slightly off the mountain side, and the wind picks them up and sends them further up in the air until they disappear in the dark, star-dotted skies. And then… nothing.

          Mako opens his eyes. Jamie is staring excitedly at the scarecrow, and when the night breeze ruffles the hay of its ponytail a bit, both Mako and Jamie draw a collective gasp. But no, they quickly realize that it’s just the wind.

          “I don’t get it,” Jamie mumbles and scratches through his patchy, blond hair. “Did it just like Torby said. Nothing’s missing.”

          While Jamie mutters to himself, Mako fishes out his notebook where he’s written the spell down. He goes over it in his head, checking and re-checking that he didn’t skip a word or pronounce it the wrong way. It doesn’t look like it, and Mako is just about to lose hope when he remembers something. A small chill, that has nothing to do with the creepy hay geek grinning at him, flitters up his spine.

          “Jamie,” Mako says, cutting into Jamie’s soft stream of words. “Come here.” He holds out a hand to Jamie, and Jamie looks like he might keel over and die from surprise.

          “What?” Jamie stares at his hand as if he’s never seen anything like it.

          Mako sighs.

          “Remember that night where I pulled you out of the old truck? In the storm?” he asks, still holding out his hand. “When you touched me, something happened. It was like—like—I was filled with something. I felt powerful, I guess. Like my magic was suddenly a lot stronger than normal.”

          “That exploding light ball?” Jamie asks, still staring at Mako’s outstretched hand.

          “Yeah, exactly,” Mako replies. “Maybe we need to—to touch.”

          It’s hard to tell when the only light sources are the moon and the candles, but Mako could swear that Jamie is actually blushing a bit. What the hell is that about? He doesn’t get to dwell on it for too long, though, because Jamie takes his hand, and the very instant he does, Mako feels that same rush surging through his body. It feels like warm light radiation from between his and Jamie’s palms, and suddenly he feels like he can accomplish anything he wants. Mako doesn’t close his eyes this time; he shifts his gaze directly to the scarecrow, and whatever feelings of unease that grinning face inspired in him before are completely gone now. Mako feels powerful, confident, and he almost laughs with glee when he speaks the incantation again.

          Even before he’s done speaking, Mako can tell that it’s working. The ground under his feet begins to vibrate, not like an earthquake, but like something is opening up deep inside it. The wind picks up around them, howling and whirling around the trailer and making the plastic windows clatter in their frames. And then the flames of the candles surrounding the scarecrow explode, bursting several feet into the air in a bright flash of light before disappearing entirely. Everything is dark around Mako and Jamie for a second, and Mako has exactly enough time to register that Jamie’s palm is sweaty when the light returns. Only the light isn’t coming from the candles this time; it’s coming from inside the scarecrow. A deep, orange flame—the same color as Jamie’s eyes—slowly comes to life, making the scarecrow's weird bottle eyes and grinning, stitched mouth glow in the dark. Then, as if hit by an electric jolt, the scarecrow draws its first, rattling breath.

          “Well, I’ll be stuffed,” mutters Jamie next to him.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was that for now :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter, because I sure enjoyed writing it! Had you guessed the cameos?
> 
> The next chapter will hopefully be out in a couple of weeks, but I can't promise anything since I'll be doing NaNoWriMo next month, and it's going to take up a lot of my writing time. So yeah, don't worry if it takes me a while to get the next chapter out. I haven't forgotten about the story :)
> 
> In the meantime, you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


	6. The Demon’s Payment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Guess who's back from NaNoWriMo! It's me, your local, fic-writing rabbit.
> 
> This chapter is a bit short, but I really wanted to get a chapter out before Christmas hits us, so here we go. I hope you'll like it!

*

 

Mako has seen many things in his long lifetime as a witch, but this takes the cake as the strangest and most fantastical; a real demon! Not a trickster or a sprite or some kind of elf that just looks like one, but a real, live demon. Mako isn’t sure what he was expecting, but he knows it wasn’t this. The demon’s bottle eyes move about like a chameleon’s, sometimes pointing in the same direction, most times not. It’s clearly taking in its surroundings. Next to Mako, Jamie is being uncharacteristically quiet. In Mako’s big hand, Jamie’s smaller one is feeling rather hot and sweaty, and when Mako looks down at his familiar, he’s honestly a bit shocked. Jamie looks… furious? Well, not furious, but very aggressive. It’s as if he has gotten an electric shock, because his hair is bristling, and it looks like Jamie is one second away from actually arching his back and hissing. It actually looks pretty fearsome, and if Mako didn’t know Jamie, he wouldn’t probably be backing away. The demon isn’t backing away, because it’s still hanging up on its stick. It looks like it’s trying to come down, though. It’s twisting and turning on the stick, shedding straw everywhere around it. It looks almost pathetic it its struggle, but between his own uneasy feeling about this whole thing and Jamie’s continued wariness, Mako doesn’t move to help it, which is ridiculous, really, because he’s the one who summoned the demon. The demon struggles for a little while longer, reaching up with its gloved hands (are there actually hands inside those gloves?) to try and untie the length of rope that’s keeping it on the stick, but the angle is too weird for it, though, and the demon’s arms flop down by its sides. Mako is about to say something when those glowing bottle eyes are suddenly directed straight at him. They bored into him for what feels like an eternity, and Mako feels more and more uncomfortable by each passing second. He’s convinced that the demon is about to spit fire at him or something, but instead the demon lifts its hands and gestures. It’s a strange gesture; the demon makes a thumbs up with its right hand while resting it on the upturned fingers on its flattened left hand. It draws its hands towards itself, towards its chest, while keeping Mako locked in place with its lidless gaze. It repeats the gesture, then repeats it again, only this time the movements are jerkier, more impatient. The demon looks frustrated. Mako just stares.

          “Uh,” he mutters and glances down at Jamie, who looks equally perplexed. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

          “I’ve never seen one of these things before, mate,” Jamie replies. He’s apparently so confused that he’s forgotten to be aggressive.

          On the stick, the demon is still gesturing with increasing frustration. Mako shakes his head and shrugs.

          “Uh, sorry, I—I don’t know what that means,” he calls to it, not really sure if that’s the proper way to address a spawn of Hell.

          The demon’s hay body seems to slump a bit, but then it starts a new series of gestures with its right hand. Two fingers pointing left, a weird sort-of-fist, an—an L? And finally the demon points at Mako with its forefinger pointing out and its middle finger pointing down.

          “Hold on,” Mako mumbles as something stirs very, very deep in his mind. “Hold on, I—I think it's _signing_ to us.”

          “It’s what?”

          “Signing. I think it’s using sign language. I used to know some of it. I think I recognize some of those signs.”

          “Signs?”

          Jamie looks completely lost, and Mako doesn’t have the energy to explain the concept of sign language to him right now.

          “Just—one second!” Mako tells the demon, because making a frustrated demon wait is a great idea. He hurries into his trailer and starts pulling books out of his bookcase, littering the floor of the trailer, until he finally finds it. It’s a very dusty book of American Sign Language from back when he tried to teach himself sign language many, many years ago. He had mostly tried to learn it, because he’d heard of a mute witch, who had developed a whole new host of spells that could only be performed in ASL, and Mako, greedy as he had been back then, had instantly wanted to learn them.

          Mako takes the book with him outside and leafs through it to the alphabet chart where all the hand gestures are shown. The demon has stopped gesturing, and is just hanging there, apparently in the middle of winning a staring contest with Jamie, who’s gone back to his semi-bristling state.

          “Uh, sorry,” Mako says to the demon, and the bottle eyes are immediately on him again. “Could you repeat that last thing?”

          The demon gestures, more slowly this time, and Mako’s gaze darts of the pages to find the corresponding gestures.

          “H… E… L… P.” Mako snaps the book shut and looks up. “Huh.”

          The demon lifts a hand and points at the rope around its neck, and it’s suddenly very clear what it wants. Mako really doesn’t want to do it, because it will involve him getting very close to a real, living and breathing demon, but there’s nothing for it. He has called the demon here to help him, so he will need to not act like an asshole and help the demon down.

          “Alright, uh, just hold still, okay?” Mako says as he rather hesitantly moves closer. The glowing bottle eyes follow his every move, but the demon doesn’t move. The closer Mako gets to it, the more he can hear it and smell it. It smells like burning tar, or maybe rubber, smoke, and old, mildew fabric, although that might just be the clothes Jamie used to sew the scarecrow from. The sounds, though—they’re something else. Even though Mako watched Jamie make the scarecrow, and he knows there’s nothing but straw inside it, Mako swears he can hear the clanking and squeaking of gears turning and machinery working. It’s as if the demon has turned the scarecrow into a giant wind-up toy, and Mako is almost tempted to look for the handle in its back. He doesn’t, though, because his gaze is fixed on the demon’s face, which has turned all the way around to watch him. The angle is unnatural and extremely unsettling, and Mako actually stops for a moment.

          “Uh, I—I’m just gonna…” he mumbles and swallows under the constant gaze of those glowing bottle eyes and the accompanying grin. The mouth is mostly sewn shut, and Mako wonders if the demon would be able to talk if they took out the stitches. But that would mean that he would have to touch the demon’s face, which he really doesn’t want to, and he’s honestly not really that interested in hearing a demon’s voice either. The signing is just fine for now.

          “Okay,” Mako sighs, and he gets himself together and reaches out to loosen the knot. It’s a tight knot, and it takes Mako a while to get it untied. His one elbow is dangerously close to the scarecrow’s head, and Mako can feel the heat coming off it. If he didn’t know about magic, Mako would probably be wondering how the demon could feel so hot without actually being on fire. The scarecrow’s head is turned almost all the way around to watch him as he struggles, which unsettles Mako so much that he tugs at the knot too hard. It suddenly comes loose, and Mako stumbles backwards and the scarecrow drops from the stick.

          “Shit!”

          There must have been a nail or something sticking out on the stick, because the demon’s right leg gets caught on something as it falls, and a loud rip tears through the night. The scarecrow is now on the ground, half a leg shorter. Mako has no idea what to do. Is it pissed off?

          The demon turns its freaky head around and looks down at where its leg should have been. Instead there’s not a mess of straw and…is that tar oozing out? The scarecrow looks up at Mako and Jamie and signs something.

          “Oh, uh, lemme just…” Mako picks up the book and finds the chart.

          _My leg fell off_ , the demon signs, but it doesn’t seem angry or frustrated at all.

          “What’s it saying?” Jamie asks, looking up at Mako. Looks like he’s forgotten to be aggressive in favor of being curious instead. Mako gives Jamie the book so he can spell his way through the signs himself. Jamie’s eyes get a lot bigger as the demon signs at him, and a wide grin spreads on his face, making him look a little too alike the scarecrow for Mako to be totally comfortable with it.

          “That’s brilliant, mate!” Jamie cries and jumps up. “Never knew you could talk like that. Did you always talk like that?”

          The demon shakes its head. _Only here. Human ears are too weak._

          “I’m not human! I bet I could—!” Jamie starts, but Mako cuts him off.

          “Let’s just stick to signs for now,” he grunts and takes the book from Jamie who’s crumbling the pages a bit in his excitement. “What about the leg?

          “Oh, we’ll just use this!” Jamie says and scoots over to the stick the demon was dangling from. He yanks it out of the ground with a surprisingly forceful tug, and then breaks it in half by smashing it into the ground. Mako is… impressed. Jamie is as skinny as they come, but apparently his slim frame hides some considerable strength, because he handles the stick, which is at least a two inches thick, as if it were a twig.

          “Here,” Jamie says and crouched down next to the demon, seemingly not intimidated by it at all. He fiddles around with the demon’s mauled leg for a moment, then pulls away with a, “Tadaa!”

          The scarecrow now has a peg leg instead of its right calf and foot. The left foot is still intact and looks eerily human except for the large, clumsy stitches Jamie has used to piece it all together. The demon takes a look at its new peg, and even though its face is literally just an old burlap sack with two bottle eyes and a split seam for a mouth, Mako swears that it looks pleased. It leans over and places both hands on the ground as it pushes its behind up (Mako had half expected to see a tail sticking out of the demon’s ass). Slowly and pretty wobbly, the demon manages to stand up. It sways a bit, still pretty unsure on its feet, but it seems to be proud of itself. There’s only one way to describe its look, and although Mako really doesn’t want to, he can’t help but think it looks a bit adorable, all proud and pleased with itself for standing up. What is this, a toddler demon? Mako has to look away for a second, because this is getting out of hand and ridiculous. Jamie doesn’t seem to agree, because he’s positively vibrating with excitement. His tail, which is usually pretty twitchy even at its calmest, is practically propelling around Jamie, bouncing and twisting around itself as he stares at the staggering scarecrow. Is that jealousy Mako is feeling a pang of? Jamie has never been this excited about anything Mako has done, and the demon hasn’t even done anything yet. It’s just standing there, rotating those creepy bottle eyes and grinning that even creepier grin like some weird hybrid between an overgrown insect and a clown.

          “So, uh,” Mako says, making both Jamie and the demon turn their heads and look at him. “What now?”

          The demon just stares at him for a moment, then it signs something. Mako is about to grab his book and look up the signs when Jamie interrupts him.

          “It’s asking if we have any food,” he says.

          “How do you know that? How can you already have memorized those signs?” Mako asks him, narrowing his eyes at Jamie who just grins and shrugs.

          “Dunno, mate,” he replies. “Must have a good memory, I s’pose.”

          “I thought you said your memory was shit,” Mako counters.

          “Only for things like names and dates,” Jamie fires back. “Always been good at riddles and puzzles and clues.”

          Mako isn’t sure he buys that, so he looks at the demon.

          “Is that what you’re asking? If we have food?”

          The demon nods, and Mako is irritated at the smug smirk on Jamie’s stupid face.

          “What kind of food?” Mako asks, having absolutely no idea whether or not demons can/will eat normal human food. He just hopes that the demon isn’t expecting him to sacrifice a goat or something like that.

          _I like wriggly ones_ , the demon signs. _Flittery ones will do, too._

          Mako scratches his head. What does that mean? Wriggly and flittery? Is this code for something?

          “Uhm, I have some apple pie if—?” Mako suggests, but the scarecrow shakes its head.

          _Wriggly, little ones!_ it signs as if anyone with half a brain would know what it means. _In the ground!_

          “Wait, do you mean… worms?” Mako isn’t sure he actually wants the answer, but the demon nods its wobbly head so hard that it looks dangerously close to falling off.

          “Sorry, uh, we don’t have any worms right now,” Mako says, trying to suppress the urge to shudder as the thought of wriggling worms in the corners of that stitched up mouth. “That’s kind of why we summoned you. The soil is dead. There’s nothing growing here, and I want to grow my own food, you know? I’d like to have a garden where I can grow vegetables and herbs for food and potions. Some stuff is just really hard to find out here, and it would be so much easier if I could grow it myself. I bet fertile soil would be full of really fat worms, too.”

          Mako isn’t really sure what he’s saying this, because surely the demon will move on when its task has been completed, right? It’s not going to stay here forever, is it? Mako swallows. He’s been so preoccupied with summoning the demon that he’s completely forgotten to find out what happens afterwards.

          “I could probably catch you some beetles, mate,” Jamie proposes with a shrug. “But they’re not really that interesting out here. Lived off a few before the big lug here made me his familiar.” He points to Mako.

          The scarecrow looks back and forth between the two of them.

          _Apple pie is good_ , it then signs, and Mako breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

          His feeling of relief only lasts so long, however, because although he was relieved at the thought of not having to witness this demon gulp down slimy insects, he hadn’t really considered the alternative. Because when they sit down inside the trailer, and Mako puts down a plate of pie in front of the scarecrow, Mako realizes that he doesn’t know how the demon is going to actually eat through the stitched up slit in the burlap sack. Before he can voice his concern, however, the demon grabs the fork, cuts off a large bite of the pie slice and tips the burlap hood back a bit. There’s something that looks like a chin under there, but the skin is black and cracked as if it’s been burned to flakes. Between the cracks, there’s that same deep, orange glow that radiates from the bottle eyes in the hood. Mako stares transfixed as the demon lifts the fork up, but when a red mouth opens and a pitch black, and very long, cleft tongue rolls out of it, Mako has to look away. He pretends that he’s looking through the book of sign language while trying to force his ears to close to the slurping, smacking noise of the demon eating. For some reason, Mako had thought that the scarecrow had merely been possessed by the demon, not that the actual demon would take up residence _inside_ it. Maybe that’s why the scarecrow was “bleeding” when its leg came off? Does that mean that the demon’s leg came off, too? Mako’s curiosity almost overpowers his fear, but he still doesn’t look up until he can hear that the demon has stopped eating.

          “So,” Mako says and looks up, relieved to see that the sack is back over the demon’s head. Jamie doesn’t look affected at all. In fact, he’s nonchalantly reaching out to swipe some of the leftover apple sauce off the demon’s plate and suck it off his finger. “Uh, will you help us?”

          “Yeah, will you? That’d be bonzer, mate!” Jamie adds, and his ears perk up a bit. He sits up a little straighter as he directs his attention to the demon. He doesn’t seem to even be aware of it, but his long tail slithers around Mako’s knee under the table. It’s really kind of endearing that Jamie is so excited about this, and Mako can’t really stop himself from reaching under the table to pat Jamie’s tail a bit. It’s warm.

          The demon doesn’t reply right away. Its strange, glowing eyes shift back and forth between them for a moment, and Mako is pretty sure that if its face wasn’t covered by the hood, they would be able to see a wide grin there, which he’s really not comfortable with. It’s like the demon is surveying them, analyzing Jamie and him, and Mako really doesn’t like that. He shifts a bit in his seat, and he’s just about to protest to this silent evaluation when the demon speaks—well, signs.

          _I will help you_ , it signs. _But I will need payment_.

          “Uh, sure, right, payment,” Mako says and feels stupid for not realizing that of course the demon wants payment. “What kind of payment?”

          _The fresh heart of a girl born at full moon._

          It feels like all the blood in Mako’s body instantly freezes solid, and for a second he can’t even breathe. He can feel the ice cold sweat erupting on his forehead in seconds, and his heart is racing so fast in his chest that he thinks he might… And then the demon laughs. It doesn’t sign laughing, no. It laughs properly, and it’s the strangest sound Mako has ever heard. It should be a scary sound, really, but for some reason it’s not. It’s a shrill laugh, almost cackling, and there’s a really weird, metallic echo-ish quality to it as if the demon is laughing into a tin can. Mako can’t do anything but stare at the shivering scarecrow, and for once, Jamie is exactly the same. They both stare at the demon shifts and rocks in its seat, clutching its stomach as it keep laughing and laughing.

          _I’m joking!_ it signs at them once it has calmed down a bit. _Your faces were priceless!_

          “Oh, erm,” Mako says, trying really hard not to let his embarrassment get the better of him. “I guess I don’t get it. You don’t need any payment then?”

          _No, no, I’ll do it for free,_ the demon responds, still cackling a bit. _But I do need something else. It’s for the ritual._

          “Yeah? What’s that?” Jamie asks. His grip around Mako’s knee has gotten a little tighter.

          The demon points a garden gloved finger at Mako.

          _I need your juice, big man,_ it signs. Its glowing bottle eyes are both pointing straight at Mako. _If you want fertile soil, I need your fertility._

          Next to him, Jamie snorts, and Mako resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. What has he done to deserve this kind of humiliation?

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mako, really. I always put him through such trials and tribulation before he can have his happy ending. I just enjoy it so much x)
> 
> I hope you all liked the (short) chapter! The next chapter will probably be late as well since I'm traveling back to my home country to deal with a lot of immigration stuff. I'm still hoping to get some writing done, but I figured I'd warn you.
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone, and please feel free to follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


	7. The Milking of Mako

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's showtime, it's go time, but will Mako be up for the task in hand? Well, he's gotta be if he wants to see his dream come true!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, last chapter! I apologize for the lateness of this last chapter, but RL has been happening. Anyway, I hope you like it :)

*

 

It really shouldn’t be as big of a deal to Mako as it is, but it is, and Mako is annoyed by it. What happened to the young, carefree Mako who would walk around naked on the beach, who did whatever the hell he wanted, and who didn’t give a shit what other people thought of him? Well, he got old and prudish apparently, because the thought of rubbing out a quick one in front of a garden demon and a rat boy just doesn’t sit well with him. It’s not like he couldn’t do it if he wanted to, but his sense of pride forbids him to even consider it. Had this been 20 years ago, Mako would have probably dropped trou right then and there and gotten it over with in minutes.

          “Does it have to be, erm, live?” he asks the demon, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer. “I mean, can’t I just—” he sighs “do it into a cup and give it to you afterwards?”

          The demon shakes its burlap head, the glowing grin still in place. Mako is pretty sure he spots a couple of moths fluttering around the straw ponytail sticking out of the top of the sack. The thought of what’s under the sack makes a light shiver flutter up Mako’s spine.

          _Only one was to do it_ , says the demon and waves a hand at Mako. _Has to be fresh, has to be done during the ritual or it won’t work_.

          “I thought so,” Mako mutters and sighs and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Is there a specific day or time this needs to happen?”

          _No,_ the demon replies and stretches its long, skinny arms over its head, shedding straw everywhere. _Whenever you’re ready, big guy_.

          “Don’t call me that,” Mako groans from behind the hands he’s busy hiding his face behind, because his life has stopped making sense.

          “You’re a guy, though,” Jamie pipes up next to him with a slight snicker. “And you are pretty big, mate.”

          “Shut up,” grunts Mako, and he means to come up from behind his hands to give Jamie a mean glare, but Jamie looks so earnest, sitting there in the weird onesie Mako has made for him, that Mako can’t bring himself to properly glare at him. Jamie’s tail is still resting on his thigh under the table, twitching a bit every now and then like it always does, and Mako sighs and gives it a squeeze.

          “I’m gonna have to sleep on it,” Mako says and edges out from his seat to grab the plate off the table and toss it into the tiny sink. The sun is beginning to rise outside, and Mako has just realized that he hasn’t slept at all tonight. Neither has Jamie, and even though Jamie is used to being out and about all night, he is looking pretty exhausted at this point.

          The demon twists its head eerily far around to look at him with its bottle eyes.

          _Sleep?_ The demon doesn’t seem to understand the concept.

          “It’s something living creatures need to do to recharge,” Mako explains and gestures at the bed. “We close our eyes and rest.”

          _Together?_

          “Well, uh, not always.” Mako clears his throat. “Uh, Jamie and I do, because—it’s the only bed here, and—”

          “Mako’s nice and soft!” Jamie helps, and he gets up from his seat by the table to scurry over to the bed. “Like a big pillow.”

          The demon’s orange eyes dart between Mako and Jamie, and that is exactly what Mako didn’t have to happen, because even though the demon’s mouth is static, and its smile can’t get any wider, Mako just _knows_ that it’s smirking.

          “No,” Mako simply says, shaking his head very adamantly at the demon. “No, don’t even think it.”

          _Not saying anything,_ the demon shoots back, and Mako swears he can hear it cackle behind the hood, but no, he’s probably just imagining that. The demon stares at him, and Mako stares back. Then he realizes…

          “Uh, I guess you don’t sleep, huh?” Mako asks and scratches over his cheek. He’s really not a fan of the idea of the scarecrow just sitting there in the trailer while Mako and Jamie sleep. No, that’s definitely too creepy. He’s not even liking the demon being inside the trailer to begin with.

          The demon shakes its burlap head, but it doesn’t offer any solution to the conundrum Mako thinks it plain as day.

          “Okay, uh, maybe you can—take in the surroundings for a while?” Mako suggests with an awkward wave at the mountains through the trailer window. “It’s really nice out in the mornings. Just—don’t get lost or run away, okay?”

          _You’re just trying to get rid of me while you sleep,_ the demon signs, but it doesn’t seem like it’s angry about it. It’s merely stating a fact, and it’s not wrong.

          “Well, yes,” Mako says and shifts his weight a bit. “Do you mind?”

          The demon looks at him for a moment, then an actual crackling come out from under the hood as it lifts a hand and flicks its wrist. The trailer door flies open, making both Mako and Jamie jump.

          _I’ll see myself out,_ the demon says, and it walks or waddles or humps out of the trailer. Mako can’t quite decide how the scarecrow moves, but it does move. _See you tonight! Save your juices!_

          Mako rolls his eyes and resists the urge to slam the door after the demon—there’s no need to risk offending it and screwing up everything they’ve accomplished so far. He’s so close to his goal, and it would be beyond devastating if he failed now. And that’s why Mako already knows that he’s going to do it. He’s going to hunker down and do what the demon asks of him, even if his personal pride is screaming not to do it. It’s only this one time, and if he’s lucky, it will be over quickly, too. Jamie probably won’t care at all either. He’s a rat. What does he know of embarrassment? Does he even have a sense of pride at all? Judging from the way he never wants to get out of that ratty, old onesie, and how he simply spends the day butt naked when Mako once in a while insists on washing the onesie, Jamie doesn’t really have any sense of embarrassment when it comes to being naked. Of course, he was stark naked when he first came to Mako, and if Mako hadn’t made that onesie for him, he would probably still be naked to this day.

          Mako sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed. He suddenly feels very sleepy, and he doesn’t even shrug Jamie off when Jamie more or less climbs onto his shoulder to thoughtfully mutter, “Think it’s gonna run off?”

          “Hm?” Mako is lost in his thoughts.

          “The scarecrow,” Jamie says, shifting his weight a bit on Mako’s shoulders. Mako can feel Jamie’s breath against the shell of his ear. It tickles a bit.

          “I hope not,” he mutters and stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “It better not, or I will cross over to the supernatural realm myself and drag it back.”

          Jamie snorts and watches him when he stands to take off his overalls and tug his shirt over his head. Before Jamie came into his life (and especially his bed), Mako would sleep in the nude, but he feels like it’s a bit much to keep doing that when he’s sharing his bed with his familiar. It’s bad enough that everyone else seems to think they’re doing it. There’s no need to add fuel to that fire, Mako thinks as he crawls back into the bed and lies down on his back with a heavy sigh. Jamie instantly crawls up and lies down in the crook of Mako’s armpit. But first he stretches his whole body so his spine cracks loudly in several places, and Mako is reminded that Jamie isn’t actually as small as he appears to be. He’s actually almost as long as Mako, but because he’s always hunched over or curled up, he comes off a lot smaller. There’s a lot of things about Jamie that aren’t what they seem.

          “How did you lose your arm?” Mako asks while he stares up at the streak of morning sunlight slowly edging over the ceiling of the trailer.

          “Hmm?” Jamie grunts from somewhere down in Mako’s armpit.

          “Your arm. How did you lose it?” Mako asks.

          “Huh, uhm,” Jamie hums, and he shifts a bit so he can place his head on Mako’s belly and look up at him. “I think… maybe a bird?”

          “A bird?” Mako deadpans as he props up his pillow a bit so he can get a better look at Jamie.

          “Yeah, mate, I think maybe a bird caught me,” Jamie explains, tapping his chin with a finger and looking thoughtful. “I mean, I don’t really remember—must’ve blocked it out. But birds are mean, mate. They’ll swoop in and pick you clean off the ground when you’re just minding your own business.”

          “Can’t say that’s ever happened to me,” Mako mutters with a quiet snort, and he smiles a bit at Jamie. It’s actually nice to lie like this; the last few days have been a bit chaotic with first meeting old Torby, then preparing for the ritual, and now a real, live demon, and it’s nice that it’s just the two of them sharing a quiet moment right now. There’s a small leaf stuck in Jamie’s wild hair, right next to one of his large, pointy ears, and Mako reaches out to pick it out.

          “You’ve lived such a strange life,” Mako mumbles as he watches Jamie’s ear turn a little pink when his fingers brush against it. “You’re such a strange creature.”

          “Am I?” The streak of sunlight has moved from the trailer ceiling to the bed, and it’s falling across Jamie’s hair, making it look like golden fire. Tiny, white specs of dust float around in the air.

          “Yeah.”

          Mako isn’t really sure how they end up that way, but they eventually both fall asleep with Jamie stretched out on top of Mako, his head resting on Mako’s chest, and his hair tickling Mako’s chin. It doesn’t really matter how they ended up like this anyway, because they sleep all through the day. When Mako opens his eyes and sees a streak of golden sunlight fall across the bed, he thinks for a moment that he hasn’t slept at all. But then he realizes that it’s the light from the setting sun, not the rising sun. Jamie is still on top of him, and his tail is curled tightly around Mako’s left wrist as if to make sure that Mako wasn’t going to bolt in the middle of the night—well, day. In fact, Jamie seems to always touch Mako in one way or another all the time. If his tail isn’t curled around one of Mako’s limbs, Jamie is usually perched on Mako’s broad shoulders, sitting or standing next to him, or holding onto a pocket in Mako’s overalls. Mako had found it annoying at first, but he has gotten so used to it that he hardly even notices anymore. Maybe it’s a familiar thing? Do all familiars do it? Mako honestly can’t remember ever hearing about a familiar who constantly wanted to be touching its master, but again, he has a sneaking suspicion that Jamie is anything but a typical familiar. He certainly doesn’t feel typical; he feels very special, unique, one of a kind.

          Mako smiles a bit and lifts a hand to gently pet Jamie’s puffy hair. The affection makes Jamie stir a bit, and those big, golden eyes slowly open to gaze up at him. Mako could swear there’s something magical about them, because every time he looks into them, he finds it really hard to look away. It’s like a spell that’s drawing him closer and closer…

          “Happy Wank Day, mate!”

          And then the spell is broken. Mako huffs and shoves Jamie off himself and the bed. Jamie tumbles down onto the floor with a yelp and lands with a thud. He complains loudly, but Mako just yawns and sits up; fuck, he’s really going to have to do this, isn’t he? Mako sighs and rubs over his face.

          “Happy fucking Wank Day,” he grunts from behind his hands, and Jamie snorts down from the floor. The demon is nowhere to be found inside the trailer, which is a relief, but Mako can’t help but look out the window to see if he can spot it somewhere outside. At first he doesn’t see it, and he’s beginning to worry that it might have left when he spots it; it’s back on its stick, hanging like a ragdoll, only moved by the light breeze. Mako would probably have been worried if it weren’t for the glowing eyes fixed directly at the trailer. There’s life in those eyes, and Mako knows that the demon is still in there waiting for them to come out. But he isn’t quite ready yet; he needs caffeine and some time to think, although he honestly doesn’t know what there is to think about. He’s either going to do it or not, and he’s already decided that he’ll do it.

          “Nervous?” Jamie asks as Mako gets off the bed and shuffles over to the kettle to set some water to boil.

          “No,” Mako lies. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just going to be a little embarrassing.”

          “Why?” Jamie is climbing up his back to throw himself over Mako’s shoulder so he can see what Mako is doing. “Ain’t it a normal human thing?”

          “Yes, but it’s normally something you do alone,” Mako explains, staring at the kettle as it slowly comes to a boil. “Or with a partner. You don’t just do it in front of— _people_.”

          “We’re partners, though, right?” asks Jamie and shifts his weight a bit. Mako is suddenly acutely aware of how Jamie’s long body is pressed up against his back.

          “Not like that,” he grunts and takes the kettle off the burner to pour the hot water into the teapot. “Romantic partners, they—well, they’re _together_. They sleep together, they live together, they spend their lives together.”

          “We do all those things!” Jamie huffs and gestures at the bed. “We just slept together.”

          “Yeah, we slept in the same bed, but we didn’t—we didn’t have sex,” Mako says, staring very hard at the tea leaves in the pot as if they might reveal to him some way out of this conversation and maybe even out of this entire situation.

          “Oh.” Jamie finally seems to understand. “No, I don’t reckon we did.”

          “So we’re not romantic partners, just partners,” Mako says. “Friends, I guess.”

          “Mh, friends,” Jamie mumbles, like he’s tasting the word, and even though Mako can’t see his face, he can tell that Jamie’s smiling.

          He’s still smiling when they’re outside, and Mako is poking the limp scarecrow on the stick. It looks… dead? If this bastard actually left, which means that they will have to wait a whole year before they can summon it again, Mako will personally beam himself to whatever miserable corner of Hell this demon resides in and— _ARGH!_

          The scarecrow twitches and surprises Mako so much that he jumps back a few feet with extraordinary nimbleness. The scarecrow seems to have gotten just as surprised as Mako, because its twitch is so powerful that it manages to jump off the stick and fall to the ground with a thud. When Mako looks over at Jamie to see if he got surprised, too, he finds Jamie just staring at them with a wide, far too smug grin on plastered on his face.

          “What kind of tossers are you?” he snorts, looking between them. Mako and the demon exchange glances (at least that’s what it feels like they’re doing), and Mako is pretty sure the demon is glad its face is covered by the burlap sack. There’s no burlap sack to save Mako, but it’s okay; honestly, he might as well get used to humiliation consider what he’s going to be doing later.

          “What the hell is wrong with you?” Mako growls at the demon who’s staggering to get up on its leg and a half. It has lost one of the big garden gloves in the heat of the battle. Mako has been expecting nothing but straw sticking out of the sleeve, but instead a bright orange, strangely mechanical hand and lower arm are visible. The fingers squeak a bit as they move, but they move organically as if they are actually part of the demon’s body and not something that has just been stuck together out of scraps.

          _I was napping!_ the scarecrow retorts angrily and gestures with its mechanical hand. _You scared me!_

          “What kind of demon naps and gets scared that easily?” Mako shoots back, shaking his head.

          _The kind that’s going to roast your ass if you don’t show some respect_ , the demon fires, and it actually spits on the ground. Whatever the substance that comes out of the demon’s permanent grin is, it’s black, and it sizzles slightly when it hits the dry grass. It’s enough that Mako backs off a bit.

          “Alright, alright,” he grunts, still staring at the tar-like glob on the ground. “Let’s just get this ritual over with.”

          _So you’ll do it?_ The demon doesn’t look aggressive anymore. It looks surprised and… nervous?

          “Huh.” Mako blinks. “You _have_ done this before, right?”

          The scarecrow hesitates. Its fingers hover in the air, kind-of-but-not-really on their way to sign an N when it looks like it changes its mind and says, _Of course I have!_

          “You’re lying,” Mako says, his voice surprisingly calm even as a sense of mild panic is snapping at his heels.

          _Alright, fine! So I perhaps haven’t done this specific ritual yet, but I’ve seen it performed loads of times, and it’s really simple!_ the demon admits. _I know exactly what I’m doing. Just trust me_.

          “I’m calling this shit off,” Mako huffs and turns to go back into the trailer.

          “Aw, come on, mate!” Jamie pipes up and grabs Mako’s big wrist to hold him back. “You’re almost at the finishing line. Why give up now?”

          “Because that demon, or whatever it is, has no fucking clue what it’s doing!” Mako argues, trying to tug his wrist out of Jamie’s hand, but his grip is unexpectedly strong. He can hear the demon signing, because the noise of speaking mechanics and the rustling of straw sound somewhere behind him, but he’s not looking. Jamie stares up at him, still holding his wrist in an iron grip.

          “It says it does!” Jamie tells him, and before Mako can do or say anything, Jamie zooms up his arm to drape himself around his shoulders. “Come on, big boy. Don’t back out now, eh? We’re so close.”

          Mako grunts in reply; he can feel Jamie’s jaw moving against his cheek as he speaks. The long tail is already in place, curled around his arm. Mako sighs, then rubs over his face. It’s true, though. They are really close, and once this is over, Mako will be able to cultivate his lands, grow his own food and herbs like he’s always dreamt of. It’s a simple dream, but it’s been his for years and years. All he has to do is… Mako groans.

          Half an hour later he’s looking at the circle the demon has drawn in the sandy ground. The circle itself is not very big, but from it sprouts all kinds of flowing patterns and symbols. Mako recognizes some of them, but only a few. The rest look totally unfamiliar, but Mako supposes they must be demon text or symbols of some sort, because he’s pretty sure he’s never seen anything like them before. Inside the circle, the demon has placed various bundles of items and plants. There’s nettles, milk thistles, and Motherwort—all weeds that Mako has collected over the years. Then there’s a handful of crystals, too; rose quartz and garnet. There’s a jar of honey, a cup of thick cream, and three chicken eggs.

          “Okay, so… what now?” Mako asks, scratching the back of his neck.

          The demon doesn’t reply in words, but simply points to the middle of the circle, and even though Mako knows that the demon can’t change the grinning expression on its burlap hood, he still feels like it’s mocking him. He grimaces, then shuffles into the middle of the circle, careful not to step on any of the patterns in the sand, and he’s about to sit down when the demon gestures at him and shakes its head.

          _Naked_ , it simply signs at him.

          Mako sighs, but he doesn’t protest. He unclasps the straps over his shoulders, so he can push the overalls down and step out of them. He takes off his briefs, too, and bundles everything up before tossing it off to the side. The night air is pleasantly cool, but not cold, which Mako is secretly thankful for. Not that he thinks penis size matters much to a demon. He sits down. The sand is still warm from being bathed in sun all day, but Mako can only think about how annoying it’s going to be to try and wash the sand out of his ass crack when this is over.

          “Do I just do it or what?” Mako calls to the demon who’s fluttering around the circle, checking that everything’s in order. It adjusts one of the eggs that has tipped over, then looks up at Mako and nods.

          Mako stares down at himself; this is probably the least sexy circumstances he’s ever had to “perform” under, but he might as well try. So he tries, and then he tries some more, picturing all manners of debauchery in his head, but after almost 10 minutes, Mako still hasn’t even succeeded in getting hard. He’s sitting there in the sand, pulling at himself, while a demon in a scarecrow is circling him. He doesn’t see Jamie anywhere, but he has a distinct feeling that Jamie is somewhere behind him.

          “It’s not working,” Mako huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s nothing here to… to stimulate me.”

          He already regrets saying it before the last syllable has left his lips, because a second later, he feels Jamie climb up on his back and settle on his shoulder.

          “What d’you need, mate?” Jamie asks somewhere around Mako’s left ear. Mako’s face instantly feels a lot warmer, and he suddenly feels some stirring going on down below. God damn it.

          “Just—don’t move, don’t talk,” Mako grunts, and he closes his eyes, focusing on the warm weight on his shoulders. Jamie usually doesn’t take instruction very well, and especially not when he’s asked to shut up, but he actually does it this time.

          So Mako does what he’s supposed to do. He keeps his eyes closed, so he can’t see what the demon is doing, but he can feel it. It’s like the air around him turns electric; it crackles and sizzles around him, and the feeling intensifies the close he gets to his climax. The demon must definitely be doing something exciting or intense, because Mako can hear how Jamie’s breath goes heavier, but it’s not until he’s done that he notices the pretty obvious length poking him in the back. Huh.

          Mako opens his eyes just in time to see Jamie slide off him and shuffle off into the trailer without another word. The glimpse Mako gets of his face reveals that Jamie’s cheeks and long ears are bright pink. He looks down at the ground he’s sitting on. It’s still sandy and dry like before, except of course for a dark smudge in the sand where Mako’s “juice” has been sucked up by the parched soil. He blinks.

          “Did it work?” Mako asks, looking up at the demon. It doesn’t respond. It’s just sitting with its back leaning back against the stick it used to dangle from. Mako gets up and walks over there.

          “Hey!” He pokes the scarecrow. “Did something go wr—?”

          The scarecrow collapses, and it’s then that Mako realizes that it’s empty. The demon has left, vacated the premises, and now Mako is standing here, butt-naked in the middle of the night like some moron on shrooms.

          “You fucking idiot,” Mako groans at himself and claps a hand to his forehead. “Why the fuck would you ever trust a demon, a goddamn flake, you complete dunce.”

          Mako actually spends a couple of minutes cussing himself out for his own stupidity, but eventually it gets too cold to stay outside with no clothes on, so he shuffles back to the trailer. He half expects Jamie to be all over him with questions and comments, but Jamie is curled up under the blanket on the bed when Mako enters the trailer.

          “What’s the matter with you?” Mako asks as he grabs a towel to try and get the sand out of his ass. What he really needs is a shower, but he’s too lazy, and it’s too cold outside anyway. The bed will just have to get full of sand.

          “Me? I’m aces, mate,” Jamie says from the bed. His voice sounds a little strained.

          “Don’t lie,” Mako grunts. He drops the towel on the floor—who the fuck cares about sand anyway—and walks over to the bed to sit down. Jamie shifts a bit under the blanket. The only thing that pokes out from under it is his long tail. Mako strokes a finger along the length, and Jamie shudders and snorts a bit under the blanket.

          “I got a little excited, didn’t I?” Jamie’s head finally pops out from under the blanket. His ears are still pink. “You know, watching you like that. It’s—I know I shouldn’t, so I figured it was best if I made myself scarce.”

          “You figured that, huh?” Mako mumbles and reaches out to pat Jamie’s head. It’s like the fact that he’s just been dooped by a demon has put everything else into a totally different perspective.

          “Yeah, I did,” Jamie says, blinking up at Mako with those large, fiery eyes.

          “Hm.” Mako lies down on the bed and lifts his right arm a bit. Jamie immediately squirms closer and settles in crook of Mako’s armpit with his head on Mako’s chest.

          “Are you still… excited?” Mako asks after a while in silence where he’s just been staring up at the ceiling while he’s felt Jamie’s gaze on the bottom of his chin. Jamie shifts a bit as the question, and it takes Mako asking him again before he finally responds.

          “Yeah.”

          “Then take care of it.”

          “But I thought you said—!”

          “Forget what I said. It’s fine.”

          So Jamie takes care of it, and Mako may have helped him a little, tiny bit, and Mako’s lips may have found their way to the side of Jamie’s neck, and they may have kissed the skin there until Jamie is huffing and puffing. Mako may have regretted the whole thing even as he’s doing it, but he’s also come to the conclusion that he has no pride left after the whole demon affair, so why not? Apparently he’s into rats now. When they take a break, Mako explains about how the demon must have tricked them, because nothing happened after the ritual, and Jamie promises that he’ll find the demon and scratch its eyes out.

          It’s almost sunup when they fall asleep, both naked and spent, but Mako only gets to sleep a couple of hours before he’s woken up by Jamie shaking and tugging at his arm.

          “Mako! Mate! Wake up!”

          “What?” Mako grunts and lifts his head a bit, too groggy to properly open his eyes. “I told you, I’m not doing that thing again.”

          “Not that, mate!” Jamie huffs. “Come outside!”

          “Why?”

          “Will you just bloody come outside, you dolt?”

          Mako sighs and sits up to rub his eyes. Jamie is practically vibrating with excitement next to the bed, and he tugs at Mako’s hand hard enough to make him stumble out of bed.

          “This better be good,” Mako grumbles as he quickly grabs a pair of briefs and a t-shirt before he follows the bouncing Jamie outside. At first he’s too blinded by the bright sunlight to see anything, but after rubbing his eyes and squinting into the daylight for a moment, Mako is finally able to see. He sees nothing. Next to him, Jamie is gazing intensely up at him, watching for his reaction.

          “What?” Mako asks him. “I don’t see anything.”

          “Look! There, mate!” Jamie hisses and points to the middle of the circle in the sand. Mako squints again, but this time he sees it. There’s something green there. He walks closer and crouches down to get a better look, and there in the sand, right where Mako “fertilized” the soil last night, there’s now a small patch of green, lush grass. It’s not very big at all, hardly even bigger than Mako’s thumbnail, but when Mako checks on it a few hours later, it has already doubled in size. By next morning, the grass covers several square feet, and under it hides thick, fat, dark soil that’s so full of nutrients that Mako almost feels the urge to take a bite of it. He spends the next couple of days, sitting on his porch in his old wicker chair with Jamie draped over his shoulder, literally watching grass grow. It’s the best time Mako has had in a long time, and he spends the waiting talking to Jamie about what vegetables and herbs they should grow first.

 

THE END

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, all done! I hope you guys liked the ending :) 
> 
> I'm probably gonna take a small break from roadrat, because I want to work on my original novel, but I will be back, and hopefully I'll be back with the first chapter of the sequel to [Teenage Dirtbag](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8847496), the college AU I've been wanting to write since forever.
> 
> If you're interested in what I'm up to regarding roadrat and in general, you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


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